tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-91035319217545701172019-08-17T06:25:12.782-07:00KoritellingMy name doesn't rhyme with story for nothing.Korihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04673812133227056577noreply@blogger.comBlogger119125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9103531921754570117.post-35854866062358376842017-05-09T09:52:00.002-07:002017-05-09T09:52:50.016-07:00Misery Loves CookeryLooking for me? You can find me, at&nbsp;<a href="http://www.miseryloves.cookery.com/" target="_blank">Misery Loves Cookery</a>, answering reader questions with thoughtful advice and delicious recipes. Think Dear Abby meets Julia Child.<br /><br />Good advice has never been so delicious, friends. See you there!<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.miserylovescookery.com/" target="_blank"><img alt="Misery Loves Cookery" border="0" height="235" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-izuuYw0a64A/WRHzNoXMnTI/AAAAAAAABUQ/o7hJvrdUSOM524QEF6cECOVxu5hWDEMoACLcB/s640/17098107_622515601278638_7105607768728158470_o.jpg" title="Misery Loves Cookery" width="640" /></a></div><br />Korihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04673812133227056577noreply@blogger.com60tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9103531921754570117.post-9478042252450094252016-07-26T17:38:00.000-07:002016-07-27T08:50:19.805-07:00Roll CallIt happened this evening during roll call. Unexpected tears, rolling down my cheeks. I couldn't get my glasses off fast enough to wipe them up, so I knocked them half off my face, clumsily.<br /><div><br /></div><div>My daughter asked, "Mom, why are you crying?"</div><div><br /></div><div>"I am forty-two years old, and I have never seen a woman nominated for president." I could barely choke it out, I had to stop halfway through my sentence. My husband leaned over from his spot next to me on the couch and put his hand on my leg. My daughter came and gave me a hug.</div><div><br /></div><div>I wasn't a Hillary supporter in the primary. I knew she was bright and capable—I had been convinced of that since I saw her give a brilliant speech at the University of Wisconsin-Madison law school while her husband was campaigning for his first term as president. I remember thinking, "He has the charisma, but she has the goods." No, it wasn't because I didn't think she could do the job that I voted for her opponent. Bernie Sanders spoke to my priorities, so I voted with him.&nbsp;</div><div><br /></div><div>I was also worried. Having lived in DC during the Clinton/Lewinsky scandal, and having worked at the Watergate (where she lived, and where the press corps was out in full force to catch a photo of her every second), I also worried that Hillary would just invite hatred from the right. The contempt for the Clintons during that time astounded me. Even though she stood by her husband, and even though HE was the center of the scandal, Hillary, in particular, could not seem to catch a break from the GOP. Nothing has really changed on that front. Conservatives seem to disdain her with foment, personally and politically. On all fronts, both due to my convictions and my concerns, I felt Bernie was the better choice for 2016.</div><div><br /></div><div>So it took me utterly, completely, and delightfully by surprise when I broke into sobs tonight as history was made. My friend, <a href="http://theguavaliciouslife.com/">Kate</a>, called it: something amazing was happening with our generation of women in that moment, watching this ceiling shatter, and our social media feeds were the proof.</div><div><br /></div><div>Generation X, born singing all the promises of&nbsp;<i><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Free_to_Be..._You_and_Me">Free to Be, You and Me</a>, </i>believing them all to be a given truth in our formative years—Generation X women&nbsp;grew up and realized those "truths" were aspirations still growing into being. We always knew that women and men were equal, we hadn't been overtly taught that there was any job or role we couldn't fill. And yet...and yet...here we are, in our forties, fully cognizant of the actual inequalities—subtle and societal—that still face us every day. It's hard to process that disconnect. It's hard to know how to fix it, frankly. How do you reconcile the liberation you were taught as a child with the reality you experience as an adult?&nbsp;</div><div><br /></div><div>We needed this moment more than we even realized, as Kate pointed out in our conversation. &nbsp;We needed to SEE THIS HAPPEN. A woman can become president THIS ELECTION. This history that is unfolding is REAL and it is NOW.</div><div><br /></div><div>It is worthy of happy, joyful, reverent tears.</div><div><br /></div><div>#ImwithHer</div>Korihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04673812133227056577noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9103531921754570117.post-45923318197557139892016-05-06T15:12:00.002-07:002016-05-06T15:12:50.253-07:00Transgender Rights (aka, your daughter has always been safe in the bathroom, stop fearmongering)I'd start by saying I cannot even believe this is a debate—should transgender individuals be allowed to use the bathrooms assigned to the gender to which they have transitioned—but of course, I can believe it. In the world in which we live, where "protecting family values" is code for "making sure everyone who isn't following the bible (in anyway pertaining to gonads) as [insert religious faith/church/guru] sees fit doesn't have legal rights," how did I not expect this?<br /><br />Enough already. Can I just start with that? <b>ENOUGH ALREADY.&nbsp;</b><br /><br />When state politicians and public figures are leading campaigns to scare people into thinking that their precious daughters are not safe in bathrooms because men, dressed like women, could come attack them, there simply isn't enough to say to refute it.<br /><br />Refusing transgender people basic dignity in the restroom is not about keeping anyone safe, it is about rejecting the validity of being transgender, based on religious beliefs. How do I know that's true? Here's the short list:<br /><br />1) Chromosomes are not the only thing that make you male or female; neither is genitalia. Gender is more complex than just a binary proposition; the infinite complexity of creation, for those who are religious, isn't meant to inspire fear, but to inspire wonder. When someone says that their body and their mind don't match—they look like a boy, but they know that they are a girl—they are speaking to their own creation, and their own way of being in the world. It has nothing to do with anyone except the transgender individual, actually.<br /><br />Believing that someone who is born with one gender-specific physical body will in some way be threatening if they live in a different gender-specific physical body is not backed up by any evidence, period. It's ludicrous, actually.<br /><br />2) Worrying that allowing people with a set of chromosomes which doesn't match their gender identity into restrooms might open up the door for non-transgender people to pretend to be the other gender, so as to harm people of the opposite sex, is ridiculous. <b><i>People who want to attack, rape, molest, fondle, or generally harm other people, male or female, are going to do so. They don't need to dress up in any particular way to do so, they don't need permission to go into a bathroom to enter that space.</i></b><br /><b><i><br /></i></b>3) Transgender people who receive hormones which help them to live in the gender in which they identify reap the benefits of those hormones. What does this mean? In their short-sighted attempt to make sure everyone who is born a boy is in a men's restroom, the very people who seem so afraid of a boy or man entering women's bathrooms will soon be confronted with XX individuals flooded with testosterone, <b><i>who</i></b> <i style="font-weight: bold;">are boys/men, </i>in women's bathrooms.<br /><br />That's a bugaboo, isn't it? Does it mean that the next set of laws to be created will restrict the access of hormone therapies to transgender individuals, so as to not encounter this secondary consequence? Where does it end, and who does it hurt in the meantime?<br /><b><i><br /></i></b><b><i>Wishing that you didn't have to deal with transgender people, and the complexity they bring which counters your world view, won't actually make transgender people disappear.&nbsp;</i></b><br /><br />4) <b><i>Setting up an argument in which girls, in particular, need to be protected from boys is sexist and horrible, and takes our eyes off the larger issue—we need to continually teach girls and boys not to hurt each other. </i></b>Notice: no one seems nearly as worried about XX individuals living as transgender men in boys' bathrooms. If you are worried about violence against women, worry about it full-stop—worry about men hurting women, and women hurting women—and you and I can have a real conversation. Focus just on transgender individuals, and I know our discussion would be pointless.<br /><br />5) People of the same gender can hurt each other, and they do every day, yet we have no problem putting them all in the same restroom all the time. Have you spent time in a high school bathroom with a pack of high school girls at the mirror? I can promise you that when I was a high school girl, the most frightening people in school were other high school girls. Quite honestly, I might have felt safer in well-monitored gender-neutral bathrooms.<br /><br />6) Have you seen the rates of violence against transgender people? These are God's children, too. When I am asked to protect those who need help the most, do I serve God by asking those individuals to put themselves in awkward, alienating, and potentially threatening situations?<br /><br />7) At what point will it be acceptable to peak inside a stall and truly invade someone's privacy and personal safety in order to police the restroom? Because, let's be clear, if there are prohibitions on who can enter a space, there must be enforcement, right? How will this enforcement play out? <b><i>Will this be another expression of loving our neighbors, or will it be a way in which we work to find and pull out "the other" from our ranks, to isolate and to humiliate them?</i></b><br /><br />8) HOW MUCH TIME ARE YOU SPENDING IN THESE BATHROOMS, PEOPLE? For goodness sake, what on earth is so precious about this space that it must be defended? <b><i>When it comes to public restrooms, most of us just want to get in, get out, and touch as little as possible.</i></b><br /><br />If all of these points above are true, how can one justify laws to keep transgender individuals out of restrooms? To me, it must come back to this: the entire argument is primarily about making a statement against the reality of being transgender, of disavowing it and calling it out as sinful and without a place in our society.<br /><br />Don't buy the hype. This isn't about staying safe. This is about staying separate and afraid.Korihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04673812133227056577noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9103531921754570117.post-65985980466830766222016-04-28T17:04:00.001-07:002016-04-28T17:10:00.767-07:00Success Perspective<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">I've felt really stuck lately in my post-op journey: in between plus sizes and regular, up and down 8 pounds, not losing weight for at least 5 months. I've felt doubt, fear, and frustration, effectively removed from my overall success.<br><br>So far today, here at the Mom 2.0 Summit, I've gotten up and done yoga for the first time in 10 years on a beautiful lawn overlooking the ocean, I've put on a dress and moved through crowds without any concern about rudely bumping into everyone inadvertently, and I'm currently learning so much and connecting with friends and soaking up the ocean air so that I am generally not able to spend time thinking about my scale.&nbsp;Several people who saw me last year mid-way through my post-op year have seen me again today and commented on how alive and healthy I look. And, of course,&nbsp;yesterday I made it to this conference without a single worry about fitting in an airplane seat, carrying my heavy stuff, etc. That, alone, is a miracle.</span><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">The journey is long and the plateaus can really make me doubt myself. It's nice to have time to savor some of the success, and to get some perspective on how far I've come.</span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-Z3vzxetEkEk/VyKmQalX_3I/AAAAAAAABOU/2l2vmDlFJnU/s640/blogger-image-11414854.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-Z3vzxetEkEk/VyKmQalX_3I/AAAAAAAABOU/2l2vmDlFJnU/s640/blogger-image-11414854.jpg"></a></div><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><br></span></div>Korihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04673812133227056577noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9103531921754570117.post-43321650500083464022016-04-10T16:02:00.002-07:002016-04-10T16:02:35.076-07:00What's Your Cooking Superpower?<span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', 'Segoe UI', Helvetica, Arial, 'Lucida Grande', sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">As a zealous home cook, I like cooking just about anything. Recipes are always percolating in my mind; last week, for instance, as I waited at the salon with my hair full of dye and a towel around my shoulders, you would have found me taking photos with my phone of magazine recipes. I may never be able to read those photos clearly enough to prepare the dishes outright, but I now have lots of ideas and some fuzzy notes as a guide.</span><br /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', 'Segoe UI', Helvetica, Arial, 'Lucida Grande', sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><br /></span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', 'Segoe UI', Helvetica, Arial, 'Lucida Grande', sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">I am curious and creative by nature, and cooking feeds these attributes for me (while I feed others, a clear win-win.)&nbsp;</span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', 'Segoe UI', Helvetica, Arial, 'Lucida Grande', sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">While I'm almost never unhappy in the kitchen, three categories of meals really get me excited:&nbsp;</span><br /><br /><ol><li><span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', 'Segoe UI', Helvetica, Arial, 'Lucida Grande', sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">Complicated, new recipes that have a pay-off as big as the work (e.g., almost everything printed in </span><a href="https://www.cooksillustrated.com/" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', 'Segoe UI', Helvetica, Arial, 'Lucida Grande', sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">"Cook's Illustrated"</a><span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', 'Segoe UI', Helvetica, Arial, 'Lucida Grande', sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">)</span></li><li><span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', 'Segoe UI', Helvetica, Arial, 'Lucida Grande', sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">Dishes which are whipped up from my imagination based on the techniques I've already learned with category #1, and&nbsp;</span></li><li><span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', 'Segoe UI', Helvetica, Arial, 'Lucida Grande', sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">Meals made entirely from stuff I find in the freezer, fridge and pantry, developed on the spot with what is on hand.</span></li></ol><br /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', 'Segoe UI', Helvetica, Arial, 'Lucida Grande', sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">Tonight's dinner was in category #3, a frugal crockpot cheesy chicken and broccoli with rice. I got to use up veg on its way out, frozen free-range chicken purchased on sale, and left over bits of really decadent cheeses&nbsp;</span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', 'Segoe UI', Helvetica, Arial, 'Lucida Grande', sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">(Parmesan, Emmental, smoked cheddar and mozzarella)</span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', 'Segoe UI', Helvetica, Arial, 'Lucida Grande', sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">&nbsp;originally purchased for the really decadent Easter recipes I prepared for guests a few weeks ago. (Cheese + decadence = total win.)&nbsp;</span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', 'Segoe UI', Helvetica, Arial, 'Lucida Grande', sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">I even managed to use up a can of evaporated milk, and to throw in some fresh herbs from our patio garden.&nbsp;</span><br /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', 'Segoe UI', Helvetica, Arial, 'Lucida Grande', sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Segoe UI, Helvetica, Arial, Lucida Grande, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-size: 13px;">The meal was a success, but improvements could me made if I ever attempt it again. Next time, I'd add the&nbsp;broccoli&nbsp;in a little later in the game, use a little less flour for thickening, and add a little more salt at the start. I love that cooking always provides the opportunity to learn, to make things better, etc., even with a humble deconstructed casserole that may never be made exactly the same way again.</span></span></span><br /><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Segoe UI, Helvetica, Arial, Lucida Grande, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-size: 13px;"><br /></span></span></span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', 'Segoe UI', Helvetica, Arial, 'Lucida Grande', sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">All together, it didn't look like much—note, no glossy internet-ready photo is here—but it tasted great, the family had seconds, and it made me feel like a cooking superhero. Every time I make something new and yummy, I increase my self-efficacy, and get excited to tackle the next challenge. On nights like this, I feel like wearing a cape along with my apron!</span><br /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', 'Segoe UI', Helvetica, Arial, 'Lucida Grande', sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><b><br /></b></span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', 'Segoe UI', Helvetica, Arial, 'Lucida Grande', sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><b>What's your cooking superpower?</b></span><br /><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Segoe UI, Helvetica, Arial, Lucida Grande, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-size: 13px;"><br /></span></span></span><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Segoe UI, Helvetica, Arial, Lucida Grande, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-size: 13px;"><br /></span></span></span><br />Korihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04673812133227056577noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9103531921754570117.post-9293077216909288802016-04-01T08:13:00.002-07:002016-04-01T08:25:38.061-07:00What's (Not) MissingOn this day one year ago, this was the scene in our Chicago condo:<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-XX_ZW9FnVYU/Vv5-p6uEJgI/AAAAAAAABKk/ubr88_SbfUs0cM-JuY8SkqDGT2IXl6s8g/s1600/IMG_3223.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-XX_ZW9FnVYU/Vv5-p6uEJgI/AAAAAAAABKk/ubr88_SbfUs0cM-JuY8SkqDGT2IXl6s8g/s640/IMG_3223.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><br />The movers had come, packed everything up, and put it on a truck to send to storage. The walkthrough with the new owners was completed. Our keys were in hand for our temporary, furnished apartment, only a few blocks east and south in our neighborhood.<br /><br />We did not have our new Florida house yet. We were only 90% sure we were moving to Florida; the movers still had Arizona listed on the second line of our file, just in case.<br /><br />The home in which we live now wasn't even on the market, which was good for us. The following day, we met with our agent, <a href="https://www.coldwellbankerhomes.com/il/chicago/agent/monique-washington/aid_11926/">Monique</a>, for our closing, at which time we had the funds to really start a new home search, in earnest. On April 2nd, we stood with Monique at the front entrance of Coldwell Banker, moments after the last papers were signed and the keys were handed over, with smiles that showed our relief and excitement. There are very few moments in life where almost anything is possible, and this was one of ours.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-MZmvmcmSehk/Vv6BOR47GRI/AAAAAAAABK0/IFJGOK5iu50I1g5Z7mIk68Amx6gl9i03Q/s1600/IMG_3234.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-MZmvmcmSehk/Vv6BOR47GRI/AAAAAAAABK0/IFJGOK5iu50I1g5Z7mIk68Amx6gl9i03Q/s640/IMG_3234.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><br />There was also a lot of melancholy and fear during those weeks. Even after seeing our temporary apartment, as the moving boxes piled up around our home, our daughter began talking repeatedly about what would happen when we signed the papers and were "homeless." The many truly homeless people in Chicago had always held a soft-spot for her—when she donated things, homelessness was the cause that most concerned her, and she wanted her things to go to those affected by it. We kept reassuring her that we would have a roof over our heads, but her insistence on that term really spoke of how adrift and frightening this whole break with our old life was.<br /><br />What we didn't know then, but know now, was that our final months in Hyde Park would feel, in many ways, like a good-bye vacation. Even though we were very close to where we had lived all those years, and had frequently spent time in this side of the neighborhood (Hyde Park isn't that big), living within walking distance of different shops, restaurants, and Hyde Park's only movie theater made our free time more fun than usual. Not having much of our own stuff, living with another's furnishings and knick-knacks, was actually liberating, and made me dread the eventual day when the moving truck would arrive at our home, to surround us with our not-so-necessary belongings. We were also slightly closer to EJ's school, which meant that even during awful weather, a drive there wasn't usually necessary. We walked around for everything, which was always the best part about city living, noticing all the flowering trees and and snapping up pictures of the signs of spring that we would miss once we moved to a more temperate climate. I smelled every single lilac I could; I wanted a sense memory of my favorite scent, with the cool gray Chicago sky and the architecture that couldn't be matched in the background.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-2j_adDTnTzU/Vv6GEIGlwAI/AAAAAAAABLE/2bPaMbp70p8_weICMS7yCfYaH5eKFxAHw/s1600/IMG_3511.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-2j_adDTnTzU/Vv6GEIGlwAI/AAAAAAAABLE/2bPaMbp70p8_weICMS7yCfYaH5eKFxAHw/s320/IMG_3511.jpg" width="240" /></a><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-6dIw0tJ0IK0/Vv6GEAi9_MI/AAAAAAAABLM/SHNnpf8PFNMiUHaW6qadUGYOwxyUKU9_A/s1600/IMG_3507.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-6dIw0tJ0IK0/Vv6GEAi9_MI/AAAAAAAABLM/SHNnpf8PFNMiUHaW6qadUGYOwxyUKU9_A/s320/IMG_3507.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-SJKzOoGriV4/Vv6GEAT4pVI/AAAAAAAABLI/H-O6KAJSk3ccavx9THEcZ3eXK2i8Wqh8g/s1600/IMG_3505.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-SJKzOoGriV4/Vv6GEAT4pVI/AAAAAAAABLI/H-O6KAJSk3ccavx9THEcZ3eXK2i8Wqh8g/s320/IMG_3505.jpg" width="240" /></a><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-BlmGPvtdJgI/Vv6GE25NcgI/AAAAAAAABLQ/Y1oOrpV63dkvkojz3PJ-39gQKbiyd9mYg/s1600/IMG_3517.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-BlmGPvtdJgI/Vv6GE25NcgI/AAAAAAAABLQ/Y1oOrpV63dkvkojz3PJ-39gQKbiyd9mYg/s320/IMG_3517.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />To imagine the life which we have now at that time was simply impossible. IMPOSSIBLE! It's one thing to believe in your family, and to believe in the vision that you have put together for it; it's another thing to predict how real life will actually go down. There was no telling what kind of house we would find, what our neighbors would be like, how easily the school transition might go, etc.<br /><br />On the other side of the big jump, I can say this: we are so, so grateful. This house is exactly enough space for our family of three. Our neighborhood is friendly, and the houses aren't cookie-cutter. Our neighbors have become close friends. Our child has kids with whom to play right on the cul-de-sac, and frequently does, after walking home from her bus stop around the corner. School has been a dream transition, with two supportive teachers and new friends. Girl Scouts and theater productions have rounded out our kid's time, while the quest to find work and the need to continually put the new home together have kept me busy. We have gone to the theme parks more times that we can count with our annual passes, more often than not with visiting guests—we have had more friends visit in the last nine months than we did in the entire 10+ years we lived in Chicago. Mike can work from a desk on our covered, screened-in lanai, with birdsong breaking through into his meetings and his brand new fig tree close by, gaining new buds every day.<br /><br />We are asked fairly often if we miss Chicago. What can I say to that? We miss friends, surely. We miss a few fun places, favorite eats, etc. We miss proximity to our extended family in Wisconsin and throughout the Midwest, for sure. But do we miss Chicago?<br /><br />It's a great thing to feel, absolutely, right down to your bones, that you love where you live. To know that you belong exactly where you are. To not sense the need to drift, or look, or plan for the next big jump. We feel that way where we are now.<br /><br />There is nothing to miss. <b>We are home.</b><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-_mgO81FyORY/Vv6GFEuNs-I/AAAAAAAABLU/3l9H9JUhu8gDb5JDPdbRx6GekEOz7KOwg/s1600/IMG_3559.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-_mgO81FyORY/Vv6GFEuNs-I/AAAAAAAABLU/3l9H9JUhu8gDb5JDPdbRx6GekEOz7KOwg/s640/IMG_3559.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><b><br /></b><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-pxNGGZNUwac/Vv6IoYjHxII/AAAAAAAABLw/ogOiCXKUlNYbE6MY84Xzr97iNidSvDDXg/s1600/IMG_4037.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-pxNGGZNUwac/Vv6IoYjHxII/AAAAAAAABLw/ogOiCXKUlNYbE6MY84Xzr97iNidSvDDXg/s320/IMG_4037.jpg" width="240" /></a><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-jevdanvf-xw/Vv6Int7o9jI/AAAAAAAABLk/EdvbsIltmh8S-0ZYqCZLMFUVMImS2q7dQ/s1600/IMG_3878.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; 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margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br /><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-MfxrMdIJNMc/Vv6ItnaZsaI/AAAAAAAABM0/B2BSbpFDmqUit3l5RYLxmiRPxhFTOs-pg/s1600/IMG_4831.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-MfxrMdIJNMc/Vv6ItnaZsaI/AAAAAAAABM0/B2BSbpFDmqUit3l5RYLxmiRPxhFTOs-pg/s320/IMG_4831.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-L49WN2JPGzU/Vv6Ivr5zePI/AAAAAAAABNQ/hkDgEgJX_98CcWLgKi_XUF_SS3JDlCBZw/s1600/IMG_5012.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-L49WN2JPGzU/Vv6Ivr5zePI/AAAAAAAABNQ/hkDgEgJX_98CcWLgKi_XUF_SS3JDlCBZw/s320/IMG_5012.jpg" width="240" /></a><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-N8ItL4_dvCA/Vv6ItCyc5QI/AAAAAAAABMs/jO-OSNbMLwgdiD8RCp0Caq7cQGL2rE6Sw/s1600/IMG_4701.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-N8ItL4_dvCA/Vv6ItCyc5QI/AAAAAAAABMs/jO-OSNbMLwgdiD8RCp0Caq7cQGL2rE6Sw/s320/IMG_4701.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br /><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><b><br /></b>Korihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04673812133227056577noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9103531921754570117.post-19574060288519114142016-03-31T12:22:00.004-07:002016-03-31T12:22:51.225-07:00Trigger DipI began my morning by throwing out a half-eaten tub of French onion dip and some potato chips.<br /><br />I felt decisive. Committed. Ready to let them go.<br /><br />Actually sticking them in the garbage was the hardest thing I've done in a long time.<br /><br />We hosted Easter for 15 guests this weekend, family and close friends all gathering for what seemed like the closest proximity to an Easter holiday back in the Midwest with our extended family. I made the decadent potato dish I learned during my year abroad—gratin dauphinois—which I reserve both for caloric and prep reasons for this holiday only. There was ham. Roasted vegetables. Even a homemade lasagna, since I felt I had to do something Italian if I was hosting the Italian side of the family. Guests brought delicious salads, vegetables, breads, and some truly decadent desserts. It was quite a spread. All of these things were pretty manageable for me, diet-wise.<br /><br />Also brought into our home: French onion dip and potato chips. The minute I saw that tub of processed fat and salt, I knew I was completely screwed.<br /><br />A year and four months after my vertical sleeve gastrectomy, I have reached the point at which:<br /><br /><ol><li>I once again feel true hunger, as well as cravings</li><li>My sleeve is a little more accommodating (not full-stomach sized, but not as tiny, either)</li><li>I can eat more carb-heavy foods that used to make me sick to even taste</li><li>I am no longer steadily losing weight; in fact, I will gain if I'm not careful.</li></ol><div>French onion dip and potato chips are trigger foods for me. They are simply horrible, containing every nutritional problem in the book, and yet I find I cannot stop eating them when they are in my presence. Even when they make me feel sick, I am simply compelled to put them in my mouth. While I can now only take a few bites of them at a time, I can do that over...and over...and over, until I've created a real problem for myself, tiny tummy or not.</div><div><br /></div><div>After trying for two days to convince myself I could simply "have a bite or two in moderation" or "not really suffer ill effects from a little bit of indulgent food," my anxiety pretty much overtook my sleep last night, waking me several times. When I woke up, I knew I had to just chuck the stuff.</div><div><br /></div><div>There are moments in this journey where I feel like such a victor, and I suppose from one perspective, I see my choice this morning as a moment of success. &nbsp;Mostly, though, I feel tired, and lonely, and angry: tired of having to constantly worry about food, lonely because each time I confront a trigger I feel small and alone in the world fighting a big battle, and angry that I am a person for whom FRENCH ONION DIP is an actual problem. I mean, seriously, what the hell kind of problem is that for a person who generally has her life together, right?</div><div><br /></div><div>Having shared this journey so openly, a fear looms over me: what if I gain back weight, and mess this all up. It would be a huge setback for me, a terribly disruptive outcome. My worry, though, comes from the understanding that I would be a disappointment to those who have supported me thus far, who have cheered me on as I have tackled the first part of this battle. What will you guys think?</div><div><br /></div><div>It's all very humbling.</div><div><br /></div><div>I suppose this once again reminds me that I am in a camp with so many others, people with addictions and anxiety and all other manner of conditions in which vigilant behavior modification is the critical factor required for our overall health. There is some comfort in that. The question remains whether or not I will seek out the comfort of group support over the comfort in the bottom of a tub of modified sour cream and hydrogenated oil. That's just going to have to be a day-by-day challenge, because I can't even begin to guess how I would answer the question a week, month, or year from now.</div><div><br /></div><div>Here's the reality: changing my body this year has been hard, but this moment, right now, is the hardest so far. I must use all of my resolve, all of my connection with those I care about, and all of the self-care I can muster to simply string together as many good choices as I can, and at the same time, crowd out the worry-thinking and the catastrophising that accompanies mistakes.&nbsp;</div><div><br /></div><div>I don't have this all figured out. For goodness sake, seven years ago today,&nbsp;<a href="http://mommylu.blogspot.com/2009/03/break-from-regular-programming.html">I wrote a blog entry at my Mommylu site</a>&nbsp;all about the horrible struggle which is obesity.&nbsp;<b><i>It just never ends, the figuring it out and dealing with the emotions of it, over and over.</i></b></div><div><br /></div><div>I'm doing the best I can, moment-to-moment. I'm on the look-out for new goals, new inspiration, new...well, new<i> anything</i> which can help me reframe my position and continue to move in the right direction. Send those ideas my way, I'll take 'em. Send anything but chips and dip.</div>Korihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04673812133227056577noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9103531921754570117.post-92028692988382220362016-02-15T06:54:00.002-08:002016-02-15T06:54:55.264-08:00Justice Farewell(These thoughts were first published as my Facebook status upon hearing of Justice Scalia's death. I share them here as they turned out to be more of a blog post than I originally realized.)<br /><br />In 1994-1995, when I was finishing up my undergraduate degree and completely immersed in constitutional law, convinced I would some day either be a constitutional attorney or a Ph.D. in Political Science who studied the constitution and the judicial branch (or both, Lord help me), I was first introduced to Scalia's writing. I was feverishly working on a big senior project on US v. Fordice, taking two con law classes, and generally geeking out on reading opinion after opinion of the Supreme Court, past and present.<br /><br />Scalia's writing was brilliant. BRILLIANT. Aside from working effectively through point-by-point, linear arguments, he was witty, illustrative, and terrific with a well-placed metaphor. He had a singular voice, and I found it to be a breath of fresh air.<br /><br />I almost never agreed with him, but so often, I would finish what he wrote and think, "Okay, I see how that makes sense, WHY don't I agree?" The closest I can come to describing my mind on Scalia was my experience the previous year reading, "Lolita," finding myself so drawn in by Nabokov's complete mastery of the English language/word choice/pacing/storytelling that at times I found myself rooting for the horrifying Humbert Humbert. Scalia could pull me in, draw in my mind, and make me really think through what I believed and what was important to me as an American citizen.<br /><br />In recent years, I have had less admiration for the strict constructionist wordsmith I met through his work as a 21-year old. He seemed off the rails at times, even offensive, and I felt badly both because of what he was saying, and because it so besmirched his character, which I had never questioned previously, even in disagreement.<br /><br />The fact that he was such a fierce friend to Justice Ginsburg still speaks volumes to me. The fact that he is credited with the most laughter during court arguments says even more. The fact that he is now gone from the court makes me incredibly relieved. All of these things are true, simultaneously.<br /><br />In an age of curated media, of liberal and conservative outposts holding the attention of their followers (myself included), and generally dragging us to the most extreme poles of belief, I miss my days of creeping through the stacks of the UW-Madison Law Library and spending time being intellectually challenged.<br /><br />If I had met Justice Scalia before his passing, I would have hoped to say something like this: Thank you, Justice Scalia, for teaching me as a young adult to seek out the most intelligent, thoughtful arguments on the opposite side of my belief system; more than anyone, you taught me that I am definitely a loose constructionist. Thank you for showing me that there is something to be learned everywhere, even when you don't agree. Thank you for modeling superb writing. While I do not support the way you shape the decisions of the court, I am so glad you helped to shape my life and my work.<br /><br />My thoughts and prayers are with the Scalia family. Grazie, Justice.Korihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04673812133227056577noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9103531921754570117.post-18865485262306766992016-02-08T06:12:00.000-08:002016-02-08T06:12:32.240-08:00Insomnia, Love, and DeathIt happened last night, after her fourth round of coming out to tell us another reason that she couldn't fall asleep. By now, she was all tears and stress, and I gave up telling her to just lie down and try to sleep in favor of going to her room, lying down next to her, and helping her calm down. Who doesn't want to watch the Super Bowl with numerous interruptions, anyway?&nbsp;<div><br /></div><div>She's had bouts of insomnia for a few months now. Some of it is just kid bedtime procrastination, but some of it seems to be legit. On evenings like last night, when her fear of not falling asleep begins to get too big to quell, it is truly miserable.<br /><div><br /></div><div><i>"Don't worry about falling asleep," </i>I told her.&nbsp;<i>"When that feeling or thought pops into your head, just tell it, 'I know you, but you aren't true. I will fall asleep, I don't have to worry.'"</i></div><div><br /></div><div>Breathe. Sigh. Her ten-year old body tried to relax, but her mind wouldn't let the thoughts go.</div><div><br /></div><div><b><i>"Mom, it still makes me feel anxious. I hate insomnia. I hate that I can't sleep lately. I hate this part of growing up."</i></b></div><div><i><br /></i></div><div><i>"I know. It doesn't feel good. Just imagine you are in this warm, safe bubble. Everything in that bubble is calm. That bubble is made of all my love for you, it surrounds you all the time. You don't have to worry in that bubble."</i></div><div><b><i><br /></i></b></div><div><b><i>"I don't like to talk about how much you love me. Do you want to know why?"</i></b></div><div><i><br /></i></div><div><i>"Why?"</i></div><div><i><b><br /></b></i></div><div><i><b>"Because it makes me think of your death, and how I just won't be able to handle it when you are gone. It makes me cry."</b></i></div><div><br /></div><div>Stillness. No breath from either of us. Yes, I know that feeling.</div><div><br /></div><div><i>"I understand. I'm not planning on dying anytime soon."</i></div><div><i><b><br /></b></i></div><div><i><b>"I know, it's just...it's just terrible to think about."</b></i></div><div><i><br /></i></div><div><i>"It is. Right now, let's think about something else. You know that my love lives right here."</i> I touch her heart as I wrap her up in a hug. She nods her head and squeezes me back.</div><div><i><br /></i></div><div><i>"That never goes away. Ever. In a million years, no matter how far away we are from each other, it is always there. My mom's love lives in my heart, and her mom's in hers...the love stretches out forever in time."</i></div><div><i><b><br /></b></i></div><div><i><b>"It's so much."</b></i></div><div><i><br /></i></div><div><i>"It is. You are also loved by so many other people: family, friends, etc."</i></div><div><i><br /></i></div><div><i><b>"I have a tremendous bubble of love to live in."</b></i></div><div><i><br /></i></div><div><i>"You do."</i></div><div><i><br /></i></div><div><i><b>"It's still hard."</b></i></div><div><i><br /></i></div><div><i>"I know. But we are here now, and you are safe, and we can choose to smile whenever we think of that love, even if we also cry a little bit."</i></div><div><i><br /></i></div><div>Ten-years old for our child has been about alternating moments of tiny kid vs. tween; needing hugs and believing in the tooth fairy vs. growing cynicism and wanting to let us know she has all the answers. This reckoning with death is so different from younger versions, because a part of her now understands that this will be devastating, and there is no escape from it, for any of us. All we can do is acknowledge the truth of the feeling, give each other hugs in the moment, and remind ourselves that even as we lose each other—and nothing is ever as right or good or peaceful as being together, alive and well—we can seek comfort from others, and have that eternal love live on in our hearts. It doesn't feel like enough, and maybe it never can be. Still, though, it is what we have, and it is a lot.</div></div>Korihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04673812133227056577noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9103531921754570117.post-85967739110186176642016-01-21T13:02:00.001-08:002017-03-10T07:30:44.978-08:00Snow Menu<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><b><i>(Love this post? Come check out all my life and cooking advice at <a href="http://miserylovescookery.com/" target="_blank">Misery Loves Cookery</a>!)</i></b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div>The East Coast has a serious blizzard coming their way in a day—I think the meteorologists have coined it "Winter Storm Jonas," which makes me think it is a member of a boy-band—and it is making me nostalgic for my twenties, when I was transformed from a snow-immune Wisconsinite to a snow-fearing Virginian.<br /><br />After graduating from UW-Madison, I moved to Washington, DC and took my first big job, with a $25K starting salary. I was too young and naive to even know how little money that was at the time, I was just so grateful to get to move to DC, a place I'd dreamed about living since a trip to the area in the sixth grade. My first winter there, in 1996, there was a huge snowstorm—large by Midwestern standards, so completely crippling by Mid-Atlantic measure. I didn't realize at the time, but I was about to experience a huge culture shift, an approach to winter that was radically different from the one with which I was raised.<br /><br />My roommates and I had just moved to a new townhouse apartment in Arlington, and we had almost no furnishings. Our only television was a small (12 inch? 15 inch?) box with no cable connection, meaning that our only entertainment via that television was 24-7 weather coverage on the four prime-time channels. As the days dragged on—DC doesn't shut down for just a day or two when they are hit with snow, they go down for the week—I could not wait to get back to work. I remember attempting, on day four, to get into the office, only to discover my bus-to-metro commute was 3.5 hours, and I should have brought my own shovel for the walking portions of the slog.<br /><br />Even with this inauspicious start, I grew to love the DC snow day. While Midwesterners—especially those of us from the Great Lakes—view snow as simply a reason to wake up even earlier to dig out and drive more cautiously—DC just stays home, tucks in, and declares a weather-related apocalypse. Once you embrace the time off, you can really enjoy the snow-imposed staycation.<br /><br />There is one critical area of expertise that Midwesterners really understand about a snow-in that DC-area residents don't really get: how to shop at the grocery store, and what to make while stuck in the house. Maybe it is because we have so much more practice hunkering down (even if we don't usually take time off of work for blizzards), I don't really know, honestly. In the Mid-Atlantic, news of a snowstorm means buying three items: milk, bread, and toilet paper.<br /><br />Now, the toilet paper makes sense. Why anyone needs three cases of toilet paper for 5 days stuck in the house, I won't ever know—scratch that, I don't want to know—but let's just call that a "safety first," move, and not dwell on the possibilities.<br /><br />And while having a gallon or two of milk and some sandwich bread are lovely, is everyone really planning to dive into endless sandwiches and glasses of milk for days?<br /><br />Cold weather and snow means it is time for baking, slow-cooking, and roasting. Cold weather = comfort food. Cold weather = EAT THE GOOD STUFF, PEOPLE.<br /><br />My friend, Mary, already reported this reality at the store yesterday, the panic-induced hoarding of dairy and bakery had begun 72 hours before the snow:<br /><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-ZfYAQiFAm7s/VqE-nNYZiQI/AAAAAAAABKM/SHHMt5j7KYo/s640/blogger-image--2042886137.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-ZfYAQiFAm7s/VqE-nNYZiQI/AAAAAAAABKM/SHHMt5j7KYo/s320/blogger-image--2042886137.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-MYwXea3g_mA/VqE-kvRHl5I/AAAAAAAABKE/EGUT3ylg7dI/s640/blogger-image-1545224667.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-MYwXea3g_mA/VqE-kvRHl5I/AAAAAAAABKE/EGUT3ylg7dI/s320/blogger-image-1545224667.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><br />As DC-area residents head out today to stock up before conditions become perilous, they don't need to worry if if the milk and bread are already gone. YOU GUYS CAN DO THIS, you just need to channel your inner Midwesterner (even if you've never even been there.) Here's some tips, along with a meal plan and ingredient list for your staycation that will leave everyone happy*:<br /><h4><b><br /></b><b>Tips:</b></h4><b><br /></b><b>Tip One: </b>If you don't have the exact ingredients, don't fret. The chicken calls for fresh thyme, and all you have is dried thyme. Wait, that's dried oregano. No need to scrap it, just reinvent it with what you have. If you have a moment now to look up recipes before you shop, do it; if you don't, just pick up what makes sense (I have a list at the bottom of this blog), and try not to get clocked at Harris Teeter reaching for the last coffee creamer.<br /><br /><b>Tip Two: </b>Plan for one big, hearty mid-day meal per day, with leftovers and fresh veg/fruit to fill in the rest of your hours. Yes, I know that little kids want their breakfast, snack, lunch, snack and dinner, but trust me: put some time into the big mid-day meal, and you'll have all the food you need for everything else.<br /><br /><b>Tip Three:</b> Think of how one recipe will lend itself to the next. You can cut down on the work and maximize the cooking fun when each thing you make either compliments or becomes a component of the next. My menu ideas show one way to do this, but insert your own and get creative.<br /><br /><b>Tip Four:</b> Take advantage of this time to make those big, family recipes that you love so much. Your grandmother makes cinnamon bread that takes two days but tastes like heaven? MAKE IT. Your family has a brunswick stew that is fidgety to make but delicious for days? NOW IS YOUR CHANCE. Do these things with your family, and maximize the staycation by simultaneously making delicious food and sweet memories.<br /><br /><b>Tip Five:</b> Prep coffee ahead of time. If you lose power, but have gas appliances, you can always do a pour over of hot water and grounds...IF you have already ground your coffee, and don't just have a bag of beans that can't go in the non-functional grinder. If you have electric appliances, consider brewing cold-brew coffee—simply pouring water over grounds tonight, then letting it sit in the fridge—for your caffeine needs.<br /><br /><b>Tip Six:</b> Front-load the baking/making/preparing of staples to the beginning of the storm, in case of power loss. Again, if you have gas appliances, this may not be an issue, but better safe than sorry.<br /><br /><b>Tip Seven:</b> Stock up on fresh veggies, fruits, nuts and cheeses. Buy bags of salad greens or good looking heads of lettuce and cabbage. "Snow day" doesn't usually make folks say, "I'd sure love a salad!" but the dishes you'll be making are substantial and filling; serving them throughout the day with fresh salads filled with fruit and veg will make you feel great.<br /><br /><b>Tip Eight:</b> Bottle up some water for drinking, just in case. Blizzards don't usually knock out water facilities, but with high winds and non-traversable roads, having water handy only makes sense.<br /><b><br /></b><b>Tip Nine: </b>Don't forget your beverages. Can't live without diet coke? Make sure you have some, more than you think you'll need. We aren't big alcohol drinkers in our house, but even we like some Baileys in our coffee after we've been out shoveling. If you love to pair beers and wines with yummy meals, now is the time—you are not going to be driving!</div><div><b><br /></b></div><div><b>Tip Ten:</b>&nbsp;<span style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875);">YOU CAN USE THE OUTSIDE AS YOUR FRIDGE/FREEZER. Keep things sealed and inside a closed container to keep critters away (a cooler works great for this.) Important reminder: carbonated things explode when they freeze, so don't leave your favorite bubbly (or soda) out in the cold too long, unattended.</span></div><div><br /><h4><b>Recipes for three snowed-in days:</b></h4><br /><b><i>DAY ONE:</i></b><br /><br /><b>1) Bake bread.</b> Yes, you heard me. BAKE YOUR OWN BREAD. Do you have a bread machine? Great, use it. You don't have a bread machine? NO PROBLEM. Type "skillet bread" into google. SEE ALL THOSE RESULTS? You are in business. Don't want to fiddle with yeast? Look up "soda bread." You are welcome. Yes, some bread recipes call for milk. If you didn't get milk, don't make those. Problem solved. Serve warm with butter and your favorite jam. Save some to sop up all the juices from item #2 (or just make two loaves, who are we kidding?)<br /><b><br /></b><b>2) Roast a chicken. Heck, roast a turkey. </b>My friend, Heather, a Wisconsinite living in Virginia, already baked an entire batch of cookies and had an organic turkey in the oven by 8:30 a.m. this morning. That is a woman with a plan, right there.<br /><br />My favorite roast chicken recipe is Ina Garten's lemon chicken, from her book, "Barefoot in Paris," but since that is not online, let me recommend looking up "roast chicken" and discovering the many, many ways you can make this incredibly delicious food. I've also heard raves—RAVES—about <a href="http://www.epicurious.com/recipes/food/views/my-favorite-simple-roast-chicken-231348?">Thomas Keller's roast chicken recipe</a>.<br /><br /><b>Vegetarian? Roast some root vegetables.</b> Get as many as you can, douse with olive oil, salt and pepper, and your favorite seasonings, throw them on a foil-lined baking sheet, and feel happy inside. <b>Heck, non-vegetarians, do this, too.</b> Those veggies will go great with your bird.<br /><b><br /></b><b>3) Make dulce de leche.</b> &nbsp;Have a crockpot? Fill it with water, then take a can of sweetened condensed milk, remove the label, and put it in the water, so it is fully covered. Turn the crockpot on, and walk away. The interwebs have a million recipes for this, both in the crockpot and the stovetop, but it is always the same idea: turn milk and sugar in a can into dulce de leche by ignoring it in a pot of simmering water. You can either start this in the morning, and enjoy it in the evening, or get it going at night, and wake up to sugar magic.<br /><br /><b>4) Before bed, soak a package of dry beans over night.</b> Black beans, pintos, black-eyed peas—pick your favorite (or favorites), and follow package directions. These guys will be rockstars tomorrow.<br /><i><b><br /></b></i><i><b>DAY TWO:</b></i><br /><b><br /></b><b>1) Bake a quick bread, scones or muffins. </b>Seriously, you are going to spend hours today drinking coffee and tea, give your drinks the carbs they deserve. Plus, if kiddos are sad that they don't have their morning cereal with milk, they may not complain when handed a muffin. (I know, kids may still complain. They are kids.) One of our favorites is this <a href="http://www.foodnetwork.com/recipes/food-network-kitchens/banana-muffins-recipe.html">simple banana muffin</a>. You can reduce the fat if you are going to eat them straight from the oven, but keep the fat if you will be eating them for several days. (I substitute melted butter for the oil, and have also used yogurt instead of all the fat if I have it available.) You may have the urge to make pancakes or waffles, and if you do, go for it, but I like the added bang for my buck of making breakfast quick breads, as folks can enjoy them all day long.<br /><b><br /></b><b>2) Make chicken/turkey/veggie stock. </b>Remember that carcass from yesterday? You didn't throw it out, right? RIGHT? YOU WOULD NEVER DO THAT! Place that in a giant stockpot, cover it with water, and put in carrots, onion, celery, and whatever leftover veggie ends/peels/etc. you've got, along with salt/pepper/bay leaf. Simmer it for as many hours as you'd like, but at least 3-4. Want to go the extra mile? Before covering those bones with water, roast them in the oven until they are slightly browned. It will add a depth of flavor that you will really love. Once done, filter the liquid from the solids, let cool, and skim (if you'd like, but keep that chicken fat!)<br /><br /><b>3) Make beans and rice. </b>Remember those dried beans from last night? Here's their moment in the spotlight. Using some of the stock you are preparing, make your favorite beans and rice dish. I love the black beans and rice from<a href="https://www.cooksillustrated.com/"> Cook's Illustrated</a> (and if you are willing to pay for their online recipe access membership, you can make this gem of a recipe, in either a meat-eaters or vegetarian version), but any favorite recipe will do. Yes, you can always use canned beans, but this is a great opportunity to use dried, save money, and get that toothsome texture that canned beans can't reproduce. If you are a carnivore and can add a bit of pork or bacon, you can make this lovely dish even tastier.<br /><br /><b>4) Make snow ice cream!</b> By now, you should be waist-high in the stuff, you might as well make it an ingredient. If you are worried that it can't be made without milk or cream (and the stores had no milk or cream, oh no!), our old friend, sweetened condensed milk, comes to the rescue. The interwebs abound with recipes for snow ice cream with sweetened condensed milk, so have at it. In fact, warm up a bit of that dulce de leche you made last night and pour it over your fresh snow-cream. Yes, you are in heaven. You are welcome.<br /><br /><i><b>DAY THREE:</b></i><br /><b><br /></b><b>1) Start your day with an omelette or scramble. </b>EGGS! Eggs are your friend. I always wonder why there isn't a run on eggs before a snowstorm, but let other shoppers' folly be your advantage. You'll need the protein to get to all of that shoveling, and with left-over poultry, along with both fresh and roasted veg, your entire family can get what they'd like. Add some cheese—you wouldn't forget to buy cheese before the storm, right?—and go nuts. Bake a package of bacon in the oven on some parchment paper at 350 until crispy. Smile, because BACON.<br /><br /><b>2) Make taco soup. </b>Starting with the pulled chicken or turkey, the stock, and the roasted veggies you have left, you can make a really lovely soup. Add a bag of frozen corn, and 2-3 cans of tomatoes (diced, pureed, whole—it truly doesn't matter, whatever you have.) Mix in a couple of packages of taco seasoning (or the equivalent), and let simmer. I also like a teaspoon or two of apple cider vinegar, just to brighten it up. If you'd like something creamier, you can thicken it with a roux (remember that chicken fat you saved?), or if you grew in in the truly Midwestern tradition of "add a can of cream of [ingredient] soup," now is your moment. Serve with tortilla chips, slices of lime, salsa, hot sauce, sour cream, avocado, and cheese. Go crazy and either mix in or ladle over some beans and rice from yesterday. You are now at a fiesta. Ole!<br /><b><br /></b><b>3) Bake cookies</b>. Call neighbors and ask them if they's like to tunnel over. Make ice cream sandwiches with snow ice cream, cookies, dulce de leche, and any other toppings you scored at the store before the snowpacolypse. Don't worry if you have extras: let's face it, someone is going to have to go into the office tomorrow, no matter what. Bake cookies that will fortify you for your eight-million hour commute, and remind you of your time in your warm home.<br /><h4><br /><b>Ingredients:</b></h4><br />A whole chicken or turkey (if this isn't available, get a cut up bird, or get any other cut of meat you might enjoy slow-cooking)<br />Carrots/Onions/Celery<br />Peppers (Green/red/jalapeno/whatever looks good and makes your palate happy)<br />Salad greens/heads of lettuce/fresh veggies for snacking<br />Vegetables for roasting (Root veggies, cabbages, potatoes/sweet potatoes, squash, brussels sprouts, etc.)<br />Any fresh herbs you love<br />Avocado<br />Lemons and limes<br />Bananas<br />Fresh fruit for snacking/salads<br />Flour<br />Sugar<br />Brown sugar<br />Powdered sugar<br />Baking soda<br />Baking powder<br />Yeast<br />Vanilla<br />Chocolate chips<br />Butter (unsalted for baking—you can freeze this, so stocking up never hurts)<br />Buttermilk (can work beautifully in recipes that you may typically make with milk, just check for modifications via internet search)<br />Taco Seasoning<br />Favorite spices<br />Apple cider vinegar (or your favorite)<br />Oil (olive oil/regular)<br />Sweetened condensed milk (2-3 cans)<br />Dried beans<br />Rice (grain specific to your recipe)<br />Canned tomatoes (any type, you can't have enough cans here, as you can use them for everything)<br />Frozen corn<br />Any frozen veg you and/or your kids like<br />Eggs (go crazy and buy 18)<br />Bacon<br />Critical beverages (only you know what they are)<br />Tortilla chips<br />Soft tortillas (consider these a back-up to bread if you lose power—rolled up they make great PB&amp;J sandwiches)<br />Salsa<br />Hot sauce<br />Sour cream<br />Cheese (for shredding over soup)<br />Cheese (for snacking)<br />Nuts<br />Sprinkles/whipped cream/chocolate sauce/any snow-ice-cream topping that makes you smile<br />Nutella (Nutellas is in none of the recipes, but trust me, you want Nutella.)<br />Your favorite peanut butter and jelly (splurge on the kind you don't normally get—you'll be happy eating it on all your baked goods, and will be extra happy if you end up without power eating PB&amp;J)<br /><br /><br /><br /><br />*If you lose power and don't have gas cooking available, you may not be happy. I'm sorry about that.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /></div>Korihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04673812133227056577noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9103531921754570117.post-32859938563526422902015-12-16T07:47:00.000-08:002015-12-16T07:48:18.483-08:00One Year Post-Op—Happy Sleevaversary to Me!One year ago, I underwent surgery, a vertical sleeve gastrectomy, to save my life.<br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-2VkHvF0zmoQ/VnGCt4-8WAI/AAAAAAAABJA/WAsvwOhRulk/s1600/IMG_2694.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-2VkHvF0zmoQ/VnGCt4-8WAI/AAAAAAAABJA/WAsvwOhRulk/s320/IMG_2694.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Right before taking off my glasses and getting wheeled in,<br />continuing the family tradition of a goofy pre-op shot.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-3rNDdNBTGLA/VnGDTNvmWhI/AAAAAAAABJQ/MzoYOuAfDRs/s1600/IMG_2697.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-3rNDdNBTGLA/VnGDTNvmWhI/AAAAAAAABJQ/MzoYOuAfDRs/s320/IMG_2697.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12.8px;">First meal of broth and jello the next day. Still goofy post-op.</span></td></tr></tbody></table><br />To mark the occasion, this morning I got up and headed to the lab to get my one-year fasting blood tests, stopped at the store on the way back to pick up some <a href="http://fairlife.com/">double-protein milk</a>&nbsp;to make myself a cappuccino, then came home and took a nice, hot shower, with salt scrub and lovely scented lotions and potions.<br /><br />I was in the shower at the hotel last year when I got the call that my surgery time had been moved up; Mike answered it, then we hustled to put on all our winter duds to race out to the hospital. Showering this morning was a lot more relaxing, and since we are now in Florida, I could just slip into a sundress when I was done. What a difference a year makes.<br /><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-rwyANpoCEGE/VnF_u5noEeI/AAAAAAAABIc/g9zyiGC68_E/s1600/OneYearSleevaversary.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-rwyANpoCEGE/VnF_u5noEeI/AAAAAAAABIc/g9zyiGC68_E/s400/OneYearSleevaversary.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Left: Pre-surgery, December 16, 2014<br />Right: Post-surgery, December 16, 2015</td></tr></tbody></table><br />The one year date is a big deal, as the majority of the benefits of bariatric surgery are reaped in the first 12 months—after that, post-op patients basically become average joe dieters, along with the rest of the world, struggling with the same potential pitfalls and sidetracks.<br /><br />In short, today marks another transition, one that I have felt coming for awhile. On the anniversary of surgery, or my sleevaversary, as I'm calling it, I'm reflecting on what I have learned in this very powerful, life-affirming year. Here's what I now know for sure:<br /><div><br /></div><div><ul><li><b>This is the second-best decision I have ever made in my life.</b> My top three are now:</li></ul><ol><ol><li>Marrying the right person</li><li>Saving my life with bariatric surgery</li><li>Studying abroad for a year in France</li></ol></ol><i>(I know, I know, everyone is going to ask, "Isn't becoming a parent in the top three?" It used to be solidly in spot #3, for sure. When I really think about the decisions I have made that have shaped who I am, and how well I take care of myself, the vertical sleeve has to be #2, without question, knocking parenting out of the trifecta.)</i><br /><br /><ul><li><b>Obesity is a disease, or part of a matrix of related conditions/diseases. Surgery helps address these, but it isn't the whole answer.</b><br /><br />I've always suspected that my incredible ability to gain...and gain...and gain...(it's a super-power, truly) has been part of a larger pathology of which I had some, but not entire, control. If this year has taught me anything, it is that I will be managing this disease state my entire life, regardless of how heavy I may be.<br /><br />Case in point, unlike a huge number of bariatric surgery patients, I didn't eliminate any medications this year, I actually added one. If you lose as much weight as I did, exercise regularly, and eat small portions of healthy food, but your blood pressure is still borderline high, you have to face the fact that there are genetics at play that require medication as a part of your disease plan. All these things—obesity, BP, blood sugar—are enmeshed, and I can't pretend that I don't have the predisposition to these problems just because I am thinner than I was last year.<br /><br />I also have not stopped using my CPAP machine, although I do sleep even better now that I am lighter. Again, this is morphology at play: a strong, genetic disposition for a small, narrow nasal passage means that, even if I become Twiggy, I'm pretty certain I'll be wearing that sassy mask to bed forever.<i> (This helps me get out of camping, which is a bonus.)</i></li><li><b>I have done my very best, and at the same time, I could have done better.</b><br /><br />On this day, I can honestly say that I am proud of myself for being brave, for taking the (calculated) risk, and for persevering through physical pain and practical challenges throughout this year. I have worked incredibly hard. Moment to moment, I have done the best that I can.<br /><br />At the same time, I could have done better. My activity level could definitely be higher, and I could streamline my diet a little more. I probably could have maximized my weight loss a bit more with added attention to protein and water intake—I spent a lot of time trying to cram both of these in, but even so, it was a constant challenge. I also may have benefited from journaling my food intake, although that is a slippery slope for me, one that pre-op counselors warned me might be ill-advised if I wasn't able to be kind and gentle with myself.<br /><br />For anyone who sees me now, who knew me then, it is hard to believe that I could have had a better outcome. I am a little behind the average weight loss for someone my size, however, and have been in a stall, bouncing up and down five pounds, for months. I can both accept that I have accomplished great things and acknowledge that I missed some opportunities.</li></ul><div><ul><li><b>I can still do better, and I will.</b><br /><br />Sure, the magic of the first year post-op may be over, with my tiny healing stomach and gut flora that supports burning fat like an engine with no hunger pangs, but that doesn't mean this is done for me. My body has leveled out at around my lowest weight as an adult, that of a 16/18 plus-sized twenty-something, my weight when I got married at 25. I can feel my body saying, "Okay, this is great! Let's hang out here forever, or maybe even gain a few pounds." If I stayed here forever, I would still be the happiest with my body I have ever been in my life; that said, I'm going to challenge myself to continually add activity and healthy nutrition to my routine. I am going to remind myself when I don't make good choices that new good choices are always available. I'm going to remember that I can love myself fully exactly where I am, while still making changes that can improve my life. <br /><br />This process will never end, no matter how I look, no matter how much I weigh.</li></ul><ul><li><b>One great change can get so many other great changes going.</b><br /><br />I preach this to my clients—my whole masters thesis centered around this idea, for goodness sake—but experiencing this firsthand in such a grand scale this year has been revelatory and belief-affirming. My sense of self-efficacy—the belief that I am capable—is through the roof, and with each little hurdle jumped I know I can meet more challenges head on.<br /><br />It is not the least bit surprising to me that this was the year we finally picked our new home, packed up and moved, and started planting down new roots. The momentum of my surgery catapulted the whole family forward in a positive direction, and it solidified the way we work together to help each other achieve goals.</li></ul><ul><li>&nbsp;<b>I feel joy so often now, it makes me tear up.</b><br /><br />What can I say? The physical heaviness that I carried was a prison. I have broken out of jail, and it feels so good, I can't even describe it.<br /><br />This strange thing has happened since my surgery—when I see or hear beautiful things (e.g., a rainbow, a colorful light display, a great piece of music)—I start to cry tears of joy. Without all that weight, everything glorious is so much more palpable.</li></ul></div><div><ul><li><b>My neck is my bellwether.</b><br /><br />At my heaviest—shoot, at 40 pounds under my heaviest, for that matter—the weight on my neck felt like it was strangling me. When I went to sleep, I would force myself to pull sheets up under the skin and fat on my neck so that I could feel something cool there, as lying back with that weight on my windpipe made me feel like I might die at any moment.<br /><br />One of the first places I lost weight was in my neck, and it has become the symbol, to me, of my escape from death. I figuratively stuck my neck out to have this surgery and do the work that comes with it, and I can now literally stick my neck out and feel like a brand new person. I find myself touching my neck, often, still not believing it belongs to me.&nbsp;</li></ul><ul><li><b>I am afraid.</b><br /><br />What, on earth, will happen if I gain this weight back? Not everything has gone to plan this year, and like I said, I can already feel old disease patterns creeping in, making the things I try to do to help myself be healthy seem ineffectual. I can't imagine the pain of gain. I can't envision the psychological and physical ramifications of gaining back the weight without my anxiety and fear rushing in and shortening my breathe.<br /><br />Part of what I must do, now, is face this potential reality. It happens to a lot of people. People who become as heavy as I was are not working with a body type that likes to stay trim and healthy. I must fight for it, I must work to keep myself well, and I must also deal with that fear, so that it doesn't start running the show behind the scenes, sabotaging me.</li></ul></div><div><ul><li><b>I am still a plus-sized woman, and I may always be.</b><br /><br />Secretly, even though I did this to save my life, I dreamed that, by this time, I would be able to walk into any store and purchase clothing. While I can now buy some shirts in an XL or XXL in a "normal" store, by waist/hips are solidly in the 16/18 range. It didn't happen.<br /><br />I'm not giving up, but I've also realized something fundamentally true (see next point):<br /></li><li><b>I love my body, if it didn't change an inch, I'd feel fantastic going out looking this way.</b> <br /><br />The fact that I can't easily buy clothes in a "normal" store cannot change that feeling. In fact, it makes me want to say this: "Stores, YOU ARE LAME. It is ridiculous that I can't get pants in the misses section of a department store. Shame on you. You are the ones who suck, not me."</li></ul></div><div><ul><li><b>Everything feels better now. EVERYTHING.</b><br /><br />This includes, but is not limited to:<br /></li><ol><li>Hugging people</li><li>Walking</li><li>Standing</li><li>Breathing</li><li>Sitting (and not worrying about fitting in chairs)</li><li>Driving</li><li>Wearing jewelry</li><li>Wearing clothes</li><li>Moving in anyway whatsoever</li><li>Holding still</li></ol></ul></div><div><ul><li><b>I'm not exaggerating about how much better JUST BEING now feels.</b><br /><br />I cannot believe I lived in so much pain for so long, and all I ever felt about it was guilt and belief that I deserved it because it was all my fault I was so heavy. As I have described to so many people this year, I spent most of my life trying to do the things that are necessary to lose weight, and then maintain a healthy weight, I just didn't see any real success.<br /><br />It wasn't all my fault (see my second point, above, about this being a disease), and I am so grateful that there was a surgery available that helped to catalyze my efforts and make me healthier, stronger, and happier. I didn't even realize how much pain I was in until it was eliminated. I feel very lucky to feel this good after so many years of work.</li></ul></div><div><ul><li><b>Now comes the hard part (but they've all been hard parts.)</b><br /><br />Accepting that I was ill was hard. Researching the surgery was hard. Adopting the pre-op diet was hard. Traveling to get the surgery done was hard. Recovering was hard. Changing my lifestyle was hard. Dealing with this current stall is hard. And now that I am one year out, and just another heavy person using regular dieting techniques to lose weight, it's going to be hard. Around every turn in this journey, I can hear that voice saying, "Now comes the hard part, Kori."<br /><br />The fact that this is hard no longer has anything to do with anything. It's all hard. Real life stuff is HARD. We've all got our troubles. I don't win an award because I lost weight that many people never even gain. I'm just so grateful that this was more effective than any other difficult attempt at weight loss in my past. This is my hard. I'm on it. I accept it. I own it.</li></ul></div><div><ul><li><b>I was never alone.</b><br /><br />Here's where I get all weepy-eyed and sniffly. This year taught me that being vulnerable—opening yourself up to ask for help, and to tell people that you need love/support/prayers/assistance/good thoughts/listening ears/cheerleading/hugs—is the most powerful thing you can do. I have never, ever felt more connected to others as I have this year, and I can honestly say that I felt the support of all of you who love and care for me buoy me up so many times when I thought I might go under. I mean this in the most literal way possible—I felt the energy, the good intentions, the love and prayers, and they carried me further than I could have ever gone without all of you.<br /><br /><b><i>I am forever grateful.</i></b></li></ul>For those who want my one-year stats, here they are:</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-GbpUaEzhxgU/VnGB7Ji9M5I/AAAAAAAABI4/4fwLy1kjDiY/s1600/IMG_1041.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-GbpUaEzhxgU/VnGB7Ji9M5I/AAAAAAAABI4/4fwLy1kjDiY/s400/IMG_1041.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pre-op jeans on my post-op body.<br /><i>(Special thanks to Carrie, <br />who suggested I keep a pair of my old jeans for comparison.)</i></td></tr></tbody></table><div><br /></div><div><i>Total weight loss (including pre-op diet): 112.2 pounds</i></div><div><i>Weight loss since surgery: 91.2 pounds (roughly 10-15 pounds heavier than my doctor's projection, but not too shabby)</i></div><div><i>Sizes lost: 3 (plus sizes have wider weight ranges, and drop much slower than regular sizes, I have learned)</i></div><div><i><br /></i></div></div>Korihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04673812133227056577noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9103531921754570117.post-83702356105397120922015-12-15T13:15:00.002-08:002015-12-15T13:16:17.204-08:00Speck-Tacular—Don't Miss It!<i style="background-color: white; color: #3c1f00; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.2px;">This post is sponsored by&nbsp;<a href="http://www.speckproducts.com/" style="color: #b5653b; text-decoration: none;">Speck&nbsp;Products</a>, who provided me with some lovely Speck cases to try out and write about here on the blog. All opinions presented here are my own, or those of my family members who have sampled the Speck cases along with me.</i><br /><i style="background-color: white; color: #3c1f00; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.2px;"><br /></i><span style="color: #3c1f00; font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;tahoma&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , &quot;freesans&quot; , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.2px;">It's that time of year, friends, when technology gifts abound, and/or hearts may be broken because new technology gifts aren't in the cards. Either way, you can find something fabu at </span><a href="http://www.speckproducts.com/" style="font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.2px;">Speck</a><span style="font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.2px;">, either to wrap up that new tablet you got for&nbsp;Hanukkah, or to spice up that old phone you just pray will make it until you are eligible for an upgrade in&nbsp;the spring.&nbsp;</span></span></span><br /><br /><span style="background-color: white; color: #3c1f00; font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;tahoma&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , &quot;freesans&quot; , sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.2px;">Right now, Speck is running their <a href="http://www.speckproducts.com/">Holiday Speck-Tacular</a>, with <b>all items on their site 30% off.</b> Plus, if you <b>order by tomorrow, December 16th, you have guaranteed shipping in time for Christmas.</b> I'm always jolly when I don't have to worry about gifts arriving in time.</span><br /><span style="background-color: white; color: #3c1f00; font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;tahoma&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , &quot;freesans&quot; , sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.2px;"><br /></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #3c1f00; font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;tahoma&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , &quot;freesans&quot; , sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.2px;">My family and I received the following items this week, and gave ourselves some early Christmas presents—I know, I know, we should wait for Christmas, but I had to review them here, didn't I?</span><br /><i style="background-color: white; color: #3c1f00; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.2px;"><br /></i><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-IulFAEzt6xE/VnB85l4sEiI/AAAAAAAABIE/s2PzOswbrQk/s1600/IMG_4674.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-IulFAEzt6xE/VnB85l4sEiI/AAAAAAAABIE/s2PzOswbrQk/s320/IMG_4674.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><i style="background-color: white; color: #3c1f00; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.2px;"><br /></i><br /><span style="color: #3c1f00; font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;tahoma&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , &quot;freesans&quot; , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.2px;">For my birthday last month, I was lucky enough to receive a new iPad Air, replacing the slowly churning "old-timey" (by Apple standards) iPad 2 that served as my main work tablet. With my sassy new <a href="http://www.speckproducts.com/apple/ipad-cases/ipad-air-2-cases/stylefolio-ipad-air-2-cases/IPA2-SF.html#start=3">orange StyleFolio</a>, I can keep that new iPad protected until it, too, becomes as slow-moving as a glacier. I picked orange, because I'm a coral/orange kind of gal, but there are wide variety of colors and styles available.</span></span><br /><span style="color: #3c1f00; font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;tahoma&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , &quot;freesans&quot; , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.2px;"><br /></span></span><span style="color: #3c1f00; font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;tahoma&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , &quot;freesans&quot; , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.2px;">The kiddo had worn out her Speck case after two years, but she's all of ten, and I can hardly believe her original case lasted that long given that iPad&nbsp;Mini's&nbsp;<strike>extremely careful treatment</strike> general abuse. She was excited for a more <a href="http://www.speckproducts.com/apple/ipad-cases/ipad-mini-3-cases/stylefolio-ipad-mini-3-cases/IPM-SF.html#start=9">grown-up floral case</a> for the iPad&nbsp;Mini she earned for Christmas two years ago by doing homework and chores, and immediately commented on how cool the clasp is. She also likes how she can set it up at almost any angle for viewing/typing.</span></span><br /><span style="color: #3c1f00; font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;tahoma&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , &quot;freesans&quot; , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.2px;"><br /></span></span><span style="color: #3c1f00; font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;tahoma&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , &quot;freesans&quot; , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.2px;">As for my hubby, he was&nbsp;desperate&nbsp;for a new phone case. He has used several Speck cases in the past, and has determined through experience that he prefers those <a href="http://www.koritelling.com/2014/10/speck-yourself-out.html">that don't have a hard cover over the screen</a>. No matter what he does to keep them clean, he always manages to get dust/lint in at least one corner of the case, blocking off his screen in that area. With his last case, he couldn't adequately see how much charge he had on his phone, as what looked like a layer of sand (denim lint) covered the top right-hand corner. I picked a blue <a href="http://www.speckproducts.com/apple/iphone-cases/iphone-5s-cases/candyshell-grip-iphone-5s-cases/IP5-CS-GRIP.html?dwvar_IP5-CS-GRIP_color=White%2FHarbor%20Blue&amp;cgidmaster=sptyp-st030#start=2">non-hard cover version</a> for him to try, and we will be purchasing some screen films to keep his screen scratch-free. He was pleased immediately after putting the new case on, exclaiming, "Look, my phone has 72% charge!" It's a brand new world of knowing when his phone is going to die, and plugging it in time, thanks to Speck.</span></span></span><br /><span style="color: #3c1f00; font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;tahoma&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , &quot;freesans&quot; , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.2px;"><br /></span></span></span><span style="color: #3c1f00; font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;tahoma&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , &quot;freesans&quot; , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.2px;">Nothing lasts forever, of course, but expensive technology is something you'd like to last as long as possible. Speck cases are available for many makes and models (we are a Mac family, but Android-lovers can be Specked out, too), and give you a stylish way to keep your tech safe. <a href="http://www.speckproducts.com/">Check them out!</a></span></span></span>Korihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04673812133227056577noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9103531921754570117.post-49256134884683883652015-07-17T09:08:00.003-07:002015-07-17T09:08:44.152-07:00Anything But FearlessHave you seen the movie,&nbsp;<i><a href="http://movies.disney.com/inside-out/">Inside Out</a>, </i>yet?<br /><br />It is a terrific movie—genius, actually—about the way our emotions interact, and how each emotion is valid and necessary in its own role. More specifically, it is about a family of three—mother, father, and school-aged daughter—moving across country, and the daughter having what is tantamount to an emotional breakdown, as she tries to stay joyful when she is actually feeling anything but.<br /><br />You can imagine how frightening this movie was for my husband and me, as we watched it on opening weekend, just days away from &lt;&lt;gulp&gt;&gt; moving our school-aged daughter across the country.** Fear, one of the five emotions highlighted in the film, along with Joy, Sadness, Disgust and Anger, was swimming all around me, and this acute potential scenario of pain and struggle was hard to swallow. Fear was popping up nightly in my vivid dreams, daily in my endless lists of "things to do/pack/think about/discuss," and physically in the tightness in my chest when I imagined our short-term future.<br /><br />In the movie, of course, as voiced by Bill Hader, Fear is hilarious. Worry lists, anxious movements, and frenetic screams make his character a much-needed relief from the (sometimes dark) plot. Check him out:<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe width="320" height="266" class="YOUTUBE-iframe-video" data-thumbnail-src="https://i.ytimg.com/vi/ypoFvJo0Xdw/0.jpg" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/ypoFvJo0Xdw?feature=player_embedded" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe></div><br /><br />Today, four days post-moving truck arrival, buried by boxes but starting to enjoy our new home, I can think about this movie with a little bit more perspective, and a lot less fear and anxiety. We made it to the other side, with a toe dipped in the water of our new normal, and we are all doing okay. We love Florida. It is a good choice. This transition is nowhere near over, and there will be many more moments of sadness, anxiety, grief, and frustration ahead, punctuating this honeymoon period with our new home. We have a lot of hope, though, because even in the stress of unpacking, living out of suitcases, and paying big bucks for home repairs, we have all been having a lot of fun.<br /><br />For EJ, a good chunk of that fun has been a drama camp she has been attending this week, for which we will go and see her performance in a few hours. As I was driving on the (now familiar, previously foreign) route home from drop-off this morning, I started to think about how fearless our kid is. Aside from her <a href="http://www.koritelling.com/2013/12/daring-daughter-at-dryer.html">anxiety about loud noises, for which we got some excellent professional help</a>, I have always described her as fearless about everything: entering new situations, trying new things, being in front of people, etc. Even as I discussed her noise anxiety here on the blog, <a href="http://www.koritelling.com/2013/12/daring-daughter-at-dryer.html">I called her fearless&nbsp;(topic sentence, third paragraph.)</a><br /><br />It struck me this morning, however, how dangerous that description really is, or at least how dangerous the expectation of "always being fearless" could become if she internalizes that label, especially as she approaches adolescence. Thank you, <i>Inside Out.&nbsp;</i><br /><br /><b>Every significantly wonderful, life-changing, soul-expanding, perspective-enlarging experience I have had in my life has come with a healthy dose of fear. </b>I have never been unafraid in those moments; sometimes, my fear has almost gotten the best of me. Had I believed that being fearless was key, I would likely have pushed away these experiences to rid myself of the feeling, and in return, I would have denied myself:<br /><br /><br /><ol><li>Every single performing arts moment of my childhood through adulthood, through which I have learned how to play and to think, how to relate to emotions with empathy, how to express myself creatively, and in the process, how to make and maintain life-long friendships.</li><li>My trip to France in high school at age sixteen—a trip in which our plane got turned around halfway across the ocean for suspicious reasons, and after a long lockdown at JFK, finally flew to Paris—a trip that ignited my love of France and helped me become dedicated to being a fluent French speaker.</li><li>My college education, away from home, at University of Wisconsin-Madison, which shaped me in more ways than I can count.</li><li>My junior year abroad in France, a year that I almost chickened-out of completely the night before our plane left, as I weighed my giant green suitcases over and over trying to make everything fit within the baggage weight restrictions, and obsessed over everything I would miss in Madison (e.g., friends, clubs, classes) if I left. I have said this before and I will say it again: aside from choosing the right person to marry, <i>choosing to go abroad and live in Aix-en-Provence for a year was the single best decision I have ever made for myself, it was so profound in its impact on my life.</i></li><li>My life in Washington, DC, packing my 1988 Honda Accord and driving out there after college, taking a job at a big firm, persevering as I struggled to assimilate to professional life, coping with missing family and friends, surviving on a $25K starting salary. Learning to love a place, build a life in that place, and create the family/friends/structure I needed to make any location truly a home, was the gift that DC gave me.</li><li>Marrying my husband. Was I scared to get married? I didn't think I was, right until one week AFTER I got married and we were on our honeymoon. As I stared at a complimentary bottle of champagne for "Mr. and Mrs. Lusignan," all I could think was, "What have I done?" He sent me to spa and bought me flowers, I calmed down, and the rest is history.&nbsp;</li><li>Moving to Chicago for graduate school for Mike. Chicago was wonderful, and Chicago was hard. School took longer than we expected, and we had to take out student loans. Our fourth-story walk-up was difficult in the ice and snow. Nothing really turned out as we had planned, except that, in the end, he got his PhD. That said, moving to Chicago meant living closer to family, making an amazing network of friends in our neighborhood of Hyde Park as well as through my <a href="https://www.sesp.northwestern.edu/masters-learning-and-organizational-change/">masters program at Northwestern University</a>, living a truly urban (walkable) lifestyle for a season, and confirming that we DO NOT want to live in the Midwestern climate forever.</li><li>Giving birth. I wasn't afraid to be a parent, and I wasn't afraid to go into labor, initially. When the labor took some frightening, exhausting turns, however, I was more afraid—actually, more physically terrified for my life, to be exact—than I had ever been, or have ever been since then. The lesson: the human body can (and will) withstand almost anything. Case in point, see item #9.</li><li>Saving my life with a vertical-sleeve gastrectomy. Because this was elective, and because it was expensive, and because there was so much shame around how "I really should be able to be a healthy weight without surgery" rolling around in my head, the fear I had going into this surgery was immense. What if I were the one person in thousands who died on the table? What if I had complications that made it hard for me to ever eat again, or be nutritionally sound? What would happen to my family if this all became a tragedy? Getting ready to <a href="http://www.koritelling.com/2015/01/four-weeks.html">go to the hospital that morning</a> and putting myself in the hands of the care team was overwhelmingly scary. I remember doing breathing exercises in the shower, then hearing my husband pick up a call from the hospital saying that I could come in early, and being so grateful that I wouldn't have to sit in that terror any longer. Now, at seven months out and 107 pounds lost, it all seems obvious that it was the right choice; I remember that fear, though.</li><li>Moving to Florida. Taking a risk on a new life, trying to shape our future in a new way, and launching into a new community with the hope that we will make friends, find our place, and grow some roots.</li></ol><div>Ten is such a nice number for a list, but I must add one more thing, one that encompasses everything: <i style="font-weight: bold;">fear helps me ask for help. </i>In every big moment listed above, as well as the million other moments of fear and anxiety I have felt throughout my lifetime, I had people in my life who helped me to face the fear, chose courage, and cope with the stress. These folks reminded me that if things didn't work out, I could always make a new choice. They patiently sat with me as I tried to answer the question, "What's the worst that could happen?" even as my responses became outlandish and hyperbolic, and lovingly tried to convince me that a) those probably wouldn't happen and b) even if they did, I could—and would—handle them. Fear has made me seek out new techniques from others—breathing, meditation, exercise—so that even when I am alone, I can be okay.&nbsp;<b>At its best Fear keeps me safe, and connects me to others in a web of support. </b>We all experience fear—there's no getting out of it—and we all need help feeling our way through it. Acknowledging fear doesn't mean you lack courage, it means that you may be at the precipice of making a courageous choice.</div><div><b><br /></b></div><div>As the audience learns from the story of&nbsp;<i>Inside Out, </i>no good comes from an externally-imposed emotional expectation, even when it comes from a kind moment of praise or gratitude. Feeling what you feel, and knowing you can express your feelings honestly, is vital to sanity. I want my daughter to know that fear is normal, healthy, and not insurmountable. <b>Being fearless, as much as that is praised as an attribute in today's world, especially for a young girl, is an unrealistic expectation.</b> My hope for her is that she may embrace the feeling, breathe, ask for help, and make choices based not simply on that one emotion, but on the sum total of what she knows, with the support of those around her to buoy her up when the tide comes in. That is my hope for all of us.</div><div><br /></div><div><i>**Our child was in no way traumatized by this movie. She thought it was funny, and would help her with her move. So far, so good.</i></div><div><br /></div><div><i>(Special shout-out to the folks at #BlogHer15 today: attending the conference last year was one of the key steps in my choice to reclaim my life and have weight-loss surgery. It also connected me with <a href="http://theguavaliciouslife.com/">terrific new friends</a>. Hope to see you again next year!)</i></div>Korihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04673812133227056577noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9103531921754570117.post-49886327027813658442015-05-16T11:51:00.000-07:002015-05-26T11:55:56.216-07:00Sweet Sixteen, Five Months<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-IpwMBygRT1g/VWTAxh5M6kI/AAAAAAAABHU/qqsx8dZ1HzU/s1600/KAL_Weightloss_5mos.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="302" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-IpwMBygRT1g/VWTAxh5M6kI/AAAAAAAABHU/qqsx8dZ1HzU/s400/KAL_Weightloss_5mos.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><br />With inch-by-inch of circumference eliminated, I'm five months out of surgery. 91.9 pounds down, with many more left to go. Feeling great and grateful.Korihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04673812133227056577noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9103531921754570117.post-18625837306923994432015-04-28T08:33:00.001-07:002015-04-28T08:54:11.531-07:00Flying to the SummitIn the world of weight loss, particularly in the world of online weight-loss support among peers, there is much talk about NSVs, or non-scale victories. NSVs are the things you cling to when the scale just isn't moving, successes like, <i>"My jeans are too loose,"</i> or <i>"An old friend didn't recognize me at the grocery store."</i> You would imagine that bariatric surgery patients, like myself, wouldn't need to focus on these, as our excess weight would simply pour off continually, without fail, due to our minuscule dietary intake. That isn't the norm, however. For me, while the overall trajectory has been weight loss, I have had weeks at a time when the scale does not budge. This morning, for instance, I lost a couple of pounds for the first time in at least two weeks. I wasn't slacking off while the scale stayed still; nothing I did this week with my diet and exercise is any different than anything I did the week before, or the week before that. During those lulls at the scales, NSVs have become an important focus.<br /><div><br /></div><div>I've written before about how my life felt restricted before my vertical sleeve gastrectomy—not only did I know that obesity would kill me, it was physically and psychologically hurting me every day. While I still am overweight, and have a long way to go, taking 85 pounds off of my frame has had a tremendously positive influence on my overall well-being. NSVs for me include, but are not limited to:</div><div><ol><li>Not constantly worrying about fitting in seats at restaurants, theaters, etc., making me reluctant to go out and enjoy life</li><li>Not waking up in the morning with back/knee/ankle/arm/neck pain</li><li>Not being restricted to my orthopedic mattress (which is now in storage with the rest of our stuff, pending our upcoming move) because sleeping on anything else caused agonizing back pain by 3:00 a.m.</li><li>Not panicking when I have to shop because I am inching out of the highest sizes typically sold, even in plus-size shops</li><li>Fitting comfortably in a queen-size bed with my husband (who lifts weights, and is very broad in the shoulders—only one of us can take up extra space if we are going to sleep peacefully!)</li><li>Not wondering if the first thing people think when they see me is, <i>"Wow, she has gotten bigger."</i></li></ol><div>At Christmas, my husband capitalized on the first NSV mentioned above, giving me tickets to see <i><a href="http://www.lyricopera.org/carousel/?gclid=CjwKEAjw3_ypBRCwoKqKw5P9wgsSJAAbi2K9dcig95Imba9vacLPDsORVB1-guv6pzV6vFq03uUZYRoCJozw_wcB">Carousel</a></i> this spring as my present. To quote him, when he gave me the present, "<i>I know you love the theater, and have avoided going to see shows for a long time because you aren't comfortable in the seats. I thought that, by April when the show is on, you would be able to go and fit in a seat without worry." </i>Two weeks ago, we went to see the show at the <a href="http://www.lyricopera.org/">Chicago Lyric Opera</a>, and it was fantastic. I was so giddy when I sat down and fit beautifully in the seat, I actually started to cry. We took a selfie to commemorate the moment.</div></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-vGhjlVQLegU/VT-XRkbCpzI/AAAAAAAABG4/Ok2X7-nRt_4/s1600/IMG_3287.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-vGhjlVQLegU/VT-XRkbCpzI/AAAAAAAABG4/Ok2X7-nRt_4/s1600/IMG_3287.JPG" height="320" width="320" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>I am grateful for all the weight-loss wins that led up to that moment, and tomorrow, I am excited that I will catapult over another previous hurdle, in what will likely the be the pièce de résistance of NSVs. Tomorrow, I am flying, alone, to the <a href="http://www.mom2summit.com/">Mom 2.0 Summit</a>.</div><div><br /></div><div>I cannot recall a time in the last decade when I have flown alone. Once EJ was born, and my weight started to really pile on, I just didn't feel safe flying on my own, sitting next to strangers, worried about spilling out into their space, not being able to put my arm rest or tray table down all the way, and asking for a seat belt extender. Then, in 2010, there was the <a href="http://gawker.com/5471463/update-the-kevin-smith-southwest-airlines-fat-flight-tweakout-of-epic-proportion">whole Kevin Smith/Southwest debacle</a>, in which he was escorted off the plane because he was too big for his seat. I mean, if a famous movie director could be told he was too fat to fly, I was certainly not going to get any special treatment. I love <a href="https://www.southwest.com/">Southwest</a>, and continued to fly it when traveling with my daughter and husband, borrowing space from my child within our family row. In my mind, though, in 2010, a door slammed shut for me: as long as I was obese, I could not fly on my own.</div><div><br /></div><div>It was convenient that, during this time, our family was grad-school poor. It was easy to justify not spending money to attend conferences, visit friends, or to pursue work possibilities on our own travel dime. Heck, we didn't have money for essentials, why on earth would I book unnecessary flights?</div><div><br /></div><div>For someone like me, who loves to travel, loves to meet new people, loves to explore the world, swallowing the reality that I could not go where I wanted to go (and do what I wanted to do, <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RzG-BP6RYko">Mama Cass-style)</a> was too painful to think about. I didn't face it, fully. I imagined travel for another time and place in my life, unsure of when that would (or could) happen.</div><div><br /></div><div>Tomorrow, it is happening. I am flying to Phoenix. Alone. To a <a href="http://www.mom2summit.com/">conference</a> that is suited just for me, to meet new friends and learn new things. To feel the sunshine, and go swimming in <a href="http://www.thephoenician.com/">fancy hotel pools</a> in my plus-size bathing suit. To visit with family I love. To test out the new freedom that comes with being in a body that, while still heavy, is reasonably proportioned and not extraordinarily difficult to haul around.</div><div><br /></div><div>I have to give a shout-out here to my friend, <a href="http://theguavaliciouslife.com/">Kate</a>, whom I met last year at another blogging conference—one in which I flew out with my entire family, and attended with a <a href="http://www.myfunnyfunnyfamily.com/">close friend</a>—for tipping me off about the sold-out <a href="http://www.mom2summit.com/">Mom 2.0 Summit</a>, and helping me to get in touch with <a href="http://cutiebootycakes.blogspot.com/">another blogger</a> who was hoping to transfer her ticket and hotel reservation because she could no longer attend. Having someone cheer me on through the process made me feel like I could actually do this.&nbsp;</div><div><br /></div><div>The conference's opening party theme, "Rise of the Phoenix," is not just a metaphor for me; I feel like I have been through a fire, and am reemerging, ready to fly again. To my fellow passengers tomorrow, please excuse the inevitable tears of joy at take-off. To my fellow conference attendees, get ready to meet the most grateful participant at a blogging conference you have met in years.</div>Korihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04673812133227056577noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9103531921754570117.post-27142635969678262992015-04-16T13:17:00.003-07:002015-04-16T13:17:45.950-07:00Sweet Sixteen, Four Months<h3 style="clear: both; text-align: center;">December 16th—April 16th</h3><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-BLLjXTOovu8/VTAYDvoW-xI/AAAAAAAABGk/4YJ7AY4-m_8/s1600/DecemberAprilSweetSixteen.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-BLLjXTOovu8/VTAYDvoW-xI/AAAAAAAABGk/4YJ7AY4-m_8/s1600/DecemberAprilSweetSixteen.jpg" height="400" width="400" /></a></div><br />Over 82 pounds down, fresh from a walk to pick the kiddo up from school, in a shirt she picked out for me two sizes smaller than what I wore the day of surgery. "Believe in your selfie," indeed. If I had not have believed in that gal taking the selfie on December 16th, I would be here right now.<br /><br />As always, thanks to everyone for the outpouring of love, encouragement, and support. I still have a long way to go, and I'm very grateful to be doing it with all this great company.Korihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04673812133227056577noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9103531921754570117.post-16011109405108441352015-03-16T12:56:00.001-07:002015-03-16T12:56:23.936-07:00Sweet Sixteen, Three Months<h3 style="clear: both; text-align: center;">December 16th—March 16th</h3><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-YgLk714R8u0/VQc0oitdIXI/AAAAAAAABGI/-qtoDri0VyQ/s1600/ThreeMonth.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-YgLk714R8u0/VQc0oitdIXI/AAAAAAAABGI/-qtoDri0VyQ/s1600/ThreeMonth.jpg" height="400" width="400" /></a></div><br /><br />Seventy pounds down, feeling healthier, walking further, eating lighter, drinking sippier (I know, it isn't a word, but it should be), and generally being Kori a lot more happily.Korihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04673812133227056577noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9103531921754570117.post-73896409227700334972015-02-16T09:34:00.001-08:002015-04-16T13:17:59.715-07:00Sweet Sixteen, Two Months<h3 style="clear: both; text-align: center;">December 16th—January 16th—February 16th</h3><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-jC9YmRnBUQ0/VOInj87qdMI/AAAAAAAABFE/20MsXpvJ8ig/s1600/picstitch.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-jC9YmRnBUQ0/VOInj87qdMI/AAAAAAAABFE/20MsXpvJ8ig/s1600/picstitch.jpg" height="400" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">Or, for full photo comparison, from surgery day to today:</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-3SlBofUMer4/VOIoINegp5I/AAAAAAAABFc/xY0YkQ5znL0/s1600/IMG_2692.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-3SlBofUMer4/VOIoINegp5I/AAAAAAAABFc/xY0YkQ5znL0/s1600/IMG_2692.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-oq8mSP_xLlk/VOIoAM-4bII/AAAAAAAABFM/xbEeEOVbrWE/s1600/photo%2B(23).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-oq8mSP_xLlk/VOIoAM-4bII/AAAAAAAABFM/xbEeEOVbrWE/s1600/photo%2B(23).JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I purchased the pants I'm wearing in today's photo last week while on vacation, one size lower than those I wore on my surgery date. They didn't quite fit when I bought them, but they were such a steal, and the pants I was wearing at the time were becoming so loose, I had to get them. Today, they fit just fine. Nutty. 56.4 pounds lost. I'm still hippy, but hey, you can't have everything.&nbsp;</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><i>Today's non-selfie photo credit goes to the kiddo.&nbsp;</i></div>Korihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04673812133227056577noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9103531921754570117.post-26089337715825313902015-02-12T09:16:00.002-08:002015-04-16T13:18:09.776-07:00Surgery Recap Series, Post #2—Getting There, Getting It Done<i>(This post is the second in a series about my vertical sleeve gastrectomy, performed on December 16th, 2014. To find out about my pre-op physician selection, you can read my <a href="http://www.koritelling.com/2015/01/surgery-recap-series-post-1pre-surgery.html">first post here</a>.)</i><br /><br />My first in-person consultation with my physician was on the Monday before Thanksgiving. At that time, I was weighed, measured and photographed, and I must admit that I felt a bit like I was being prepared for showing at the county fair. My physician asked me if I was at my highest weight, and although I had measured three pounds down from my very highest, I said yes, speaking generally. He told me that that is a red flag, and he would expect me to have lost weight before I came in for surgery, three weeks later. If I came back the same weight, or heavier, he would not perform surgery at that time.<br /><br />I immediately regretted not replying, <i>"Oh, no, I was three pounds heavier earlier this month!" </i>If you want to scare a fat person, tell them that they have a limited amount of time in which they must prove they have lost weight. My brain was screaming, <i>"If I thought I could lose weight, I wouldn't be here!"&nbsp;</i><br /><br />I didn't worry about starting my pre-op, liver-shrinking diet until two weeks before my surgery, as recommended, which allowed me to eat normally on Thanksgiving later that week. Did I eat as much as I might have if didn't know I had to lose weight by the 16th? Nope. I was moderate in my choices, and gained no holiday pounds, thankfully.<br /><br />There is talk among the bariatric surgery community about "food funerals," opportunities to really eat those foods that you absolutely adore, but are terrible for you, before you may be unable to eat them again. I held no funerals. I didn't feel compelled. It wasn't an act of heroism, it was primarily a laser focus on my goal of being surgery ready by my surgery date.<br /><br />In the end, I needn't have worried about the doctor's warning. Once provided with the nutritionist's recommendations for a pre-op diet, created specifically to shrink a pre-fatty liver (which, as an obese person, I was already the proud owner of), I found that the pounds started to fall off. The first two days were tortuous: no sugar, no carbs, and no caffeine, all at once. I called the nutritionist in desperation, I was so hungry. She told me to go ahead and add a lot more lean carbohydrates and good fats. By day four, I had figured out a decent protein shake recipe, and was cruising along.<br /><br />In fact, about a week before the surgery, I started to have doubts about even moving forward with the operation. If I could lose weight so quickly, why would I get cut open?<br /><br />It was at this point I had a lot of tears, doubt, and self-examination. I began to remember that I have lost weight quickly like this many, many times before. In the end, I always ended up gaining the weight back, plus more. I sought reassurance from family, friends, and other gastric sleeve patients I had met online. I told myself, <i>"If you show up that day, and it doesn't feel right, you don't have to have surgery," </i>all while continuing to prepare.<br /><br />Thankfully, I was soon in the thick of our daughter's Nutcracker ballet performances—getting her ready, doing her super-sticky-will-not-fall bun several times a day, and volunteering in the front of house during performances we did not attend. It was exactly as I hoped: between being busy, hosting relatives coming into town to see EJ perform, and getting repeatedly covered in hair gel, I didn't have a moment to worry about the upcoming surgery. I mean, look at this kid—how could you worry about anything when you get to watch this kid dance, right?<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-IcrbtHVt6mA/VNzK9vPxBhI/AAAAAAAABDs/J0JzjSQTIAM/s1600/IMG_2681.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-IcrbtHVt6mA/VNzK9vPxBhI/AAAAAAAABDs/J0JzjSQTIAM/s1600/IMG_2681.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></div><br /><br />On the evening of Sunday the 14th, two days before surgery, I started to make piles of everything we needed to take with us to Michigan. A Magic Bullet blender, protein powder, sugar-free jellos and puddings, homemade broth frozen into ice cubes, the <a href="http://aerobie.com/products/aeropress.htm">Aeropress coffee maker</a> and <a href="http://colectivocoffee.com/">Colectivo coffee</a> (decaf for me, regular for Mike), GasX strips and Milk of Magnesia, bottles of grape-flavored <a href="http://www.theisopurecompany.com/en/drinks">Isopure clear liquid</a>, and comfy pajamas and slippers for lounging around were all sorted, and various coolers and ice packs were set up for early morning packing.<br /><br />My folks had agreed to come with us for the surgery, which was a huge blessing. After I was discharged, they would return to Chicago with the kiddo, get her to school and activities, etc., then bring her (and our dog) up to their place in Wisconsin for a fun weekend with family, while I recuperated in Michigan with Mike, waiting for my one-week post-op appointment. It made our daughter very relieved to know that she could be at the hospital to visit me, and it made me very relieved to know my parents would be there for support.<br /><br />Early on Monday the 15th, we were all packed in two cars and heading out. Mike and I stopped for gas, while my folks went through the adjacent McDonald's drive through to get everyone but me some breakfast. As it was the day before surgery, I was on clear liquids, only, so I had a bottle of water and a bottle of Isopure for the road. EJ decided to go with her grandparents (smart kid), so I drove Mike and I there, knowing I wouldn't be able to drive for several weeks after surgery. We listened to an audiobook, chatted, and generally had a relaxing time. Once in Michigan, we checked into our <a href="http://www.marriott.com/hotels/travel/dtwpt-residence-inn-detroit-pontiac-auburn-hills/">Residence Inn</a>, loaded up our mini-kitchen, then headed right to my pre-op appointment with <a href="http://www.drpleatman.com/">Dr. Pleatman</a>.<br /><br />Fancy, right?<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-nFRM4bj6zQk/VNzLNXLaNOI/AAAAAAAABD8/HNrjlIU_q_U/s1600/IMG_2688.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-nFRM4bj6zQk/VNzLNXLaNOI/AAAAAAAABD8/HNrjlIU_q_U/s1600/IMG_2688.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-TgLY3AGHf08/VNzLNaTsN3I/AAAAAAAABD4/CdFx592jcj0/s1600/IMG_2689.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-TgLY3AGHf08/VNzLNaTsN3I/AAAAAAAABD4/CdFx592jcj0/s1600/IMG_2689.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></div><br /><br />Because I had come earlier, I did not need to attend nutritional or informational sessions with the staff, which were being held for other surgical patients that week. Mike met my doctor, though, and we discussed my concern about having the smallest recommended bougie (size 32) used for my surgery.<br /><br />In a gastric sleeve, a tube called a bougie (bougie means candle in French, to give you a visual) is placed down your throat and positioned in your stomach, making a guide for the staple line that removes your excess stomach. Dr. Pleatman favors the the smallest bougie recommended, a 32, in his procedures. I was worried about that, though, as I have had years of GERD, and a smaller-sized stomach is indicated in increased post-op acid reflux. Mike and I had read research stating that bougie size did not matter for long-term weight loss outcomes (comparing 32 to 40, and 32 to 36), but using smaller bougies could increase patient discomfort and short-term complications.<br /><br />After our appointment, I left, having agreed to the 32, but once in the car, I started crying. Even though the difference between a 32 and a 36 is only a matter of millimeters, I didn't want the smallest pouch. My doctor, who I trusted, felt it was best, based on his patient outcomes, but I just couldn't feel good about it. Mike and I drove to a nearby soup restaurant, where they painstakingly attempted to strain out all bits of vegetables from a broth for me, and I started to obsess about this issue. This was the absolute, most difficult moment for me in the pre-op process, and it was less than 24 hours before surgery. If I didn't trust my surgeon, I wouldn't have picked him; at the same, time my gut (metaphorically and physically) couldn't get on board.<br /><br />God bless my husband, who said, "Let's go back to the office right now," as soon as we finished lunch. We did. We asked to see the surgeon again, and even before I reiterated my concerns, he volunteered something like, "Why don't I just use a 36 bougie. It's fine. It's your stomach, you need to be happy with this."<br /><br />At that moment, I was completely relieved, and completely ready for surgery. I'm sure you could see the stress lift off my face. I knew I was doing the right thing, and had picked the right doctor.<br /><br />We went back to the hotel, where we rejoined my folks and kid. There was swimming in the pool, talking to friends on the phone wishing me well, and Christmas manicures for my mom and daughter with the new <a href="https://www.jamberrynails.net/">Jamberry nails</a> I had purchased. Yes, I gave out manicures the night before surgery, and it was terrific! The family time was perfect, and it kept my mind off feeling hungry.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-RmCzrl8NYGU/VNzK1ImWzVI/AAAAAAAABDk/JCyaWYKLlTw/s1600/IMG_2690.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-RmCzrl8NYGU/VNzK1ImWzVI/AAAAAAAABDk/JCyaWYKLlTw/s1600/IMG_2690.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div>I then did the (gross, unfortunate, necessary) Milk of Magnesia pre-surgery prep, let that do its work, and headed to bed. Before falling asleep, I had a mental conversation with my grandparents, who are deceased. Granddaddy was a doctor, and Grammy was a doctor's wife (so practically a doctor, as we all were repeatedly told.) I asked that, if they could come around tomorrow, be in the room with me, be with the doctors and nurses caring for me, I would really appreciate it. <br /><br />I woke up feeling calm and happy. My original surgery time was scheduled for mid-afternoon, but I had learned the day before at my appointment that it had been moved up, and I should plan to arrive at <a href="http://www.stjoesoakland.org/welcome-to-st-joseph-mercy-oakland">the hospital</a> around 11:30 a.m. I had a lazy morning, not eating or drinking anything as requested, just hanging out with Mike and monitoring the comings and goings of our kiddo with my folks in the room across the hall. &nbsp;I took a photo of myself in my pajamas, for a last "before" picture.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-3UIBBTZAP-o/VNzLNTNlPdI/AAAAAAAABD0/D7iWkMqImAA/s1600/IMG_2692.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-3UIBBTZAP-o/VNzLNTNlPdI/AAAAAAAABD0/D7iWkMqImAA/s1600/IMG_2692.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></div><br />I got into the shower around 9:30 a.m., and it was at this time that we got the call that surgeries were running ahead of schedule, and I could arrive as soon as possible. With hair still wet, I kissed and hugged EJ and my dad goodbye, then Mom, Mike and I headed to the hospital.<br /><br />What happened next is a little bit of magic, if you ask me. As we walked to the surgical wing, Mom and I noticed the name of the unit I would be on: Gustafson. Gustafson was my Grammy's maiden name. I had come all this way, picking this surgeon and hospital from options all over North America, and this is where I had ended up, in Grammy's wing. To me, this was just one more little confirmation that I was in the right place doing the right thing, although others might call it simply coincidence. I knew Grammy and Granddaddy were watching out for me. We stopped to take a picture on the way to check-in to honor the moment.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/--AnuyBUeqXE/VNzLOOOejuI/AAAAAAAABEE/RJnYrbrDMXw/s1600/IMG_2693.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/--AnuyBUeqXE/VNzLOOOejuI/AAAAAAAABEE/RJnYrbrDMXw/s1600/IMG_2693.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></div><br />Registration didn't take long, and before I knew it, I was in a gown being prepped. At this point, we realized that, in our haste to leave the hotel, I had forgotten my CPAP machine. Mike had to run back to get it—the hotel wasn't that far away, but I was worried he wouldn't make it in time for me to see him before getting wheeled back. That was my only worry before surgery, and it was a good distraction from any pre-op nervousness that could have formed. My surgeon came in to see me, and confirmed that he was using a 36 bougie. I thanked him. My nurses were terrific—the lady who weighed me said, "I know, this is everyone's least favorite part," but I was actually thrilled to see my before number right before surgery. As it turned out, I was 23 pounds down from my highest weight, 20 since starting the pre-op diet. Both nurses cheered with me, then a PA came in, heard my news from the nurses, and got on board with the encouragement. My IV was started, after I explained that the IV I had in my hand for Ellerie's birth had become swollen and painful, the nurse said, "I hate putting them in the hand, for that exact reason," then nearly painlessly put one into my forearm.<br /><br />Mike and Mom came back about ten minutes before I was wheeled into surgery, with plenty of time for us to share hugs, and for them to be there when the anesthesiologist walked me through what she would be doing to keep me asleep and comfortable. They also took a goofy pre-surgery photo for me—specifically requested by EJ—a tradition of ours starting back to when my dad had surgery a few years ago, and he posed in a silly way right before his anesthesia kicked in.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-RKFzNB45lFw/VNzLOD5Wn_I/AAAAAAAABEA/ukRWERXFJ5o/s1600/IMG_2694.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-RKFzNB45lFw/VNzLOD5Wn_I/AAAAAAAABEA/ukRWERXFJ5o/s1600/IMG_2694.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></div><br />Dad and Mom are better at it, as you can see here, but I did my best.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-53uv5xu0ryE/VNzTsv4JAzI/AAAAAAAABEs/xb2nPYomhqs/s1600/IMG_2155.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-53uv5xu0ryE/VNzTsv4JAzI/AAAAAAAABEs/xb2nPYomhqs/s1600/IMG_2155.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-9-Nlfng2lWs/VNzTymyjdII/AAAAAAAABE0/qjsJ3Y_1elk/s1600/IMG_1816.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-9-Nlfng2lWs/VNzTymyjdII/AAAAAAAABE0/qjsJ3Y_1elk/s1600/IMG_1816.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Once wheeled back, I don't remember much. I remember seeing the surgical lights, which looked like a giant, glowing lotus flower. I also remember the nurses bragging about my progress to the surgical crew. According to Mike and Mom, a nurse came out 30 minutes later to tell them the surgery was going well, and a little after the hour mark, my surgeon came out and showed them my inflated, removed stomach (a test that shows that there are no leaks internally, which both of my anatomy-geek relatives loved), as well as the bougie he used. He also told them that I had done a great job shrinking up my liver on the pre-op diet, making the surgery easier to perform, as it was quite small.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">For my part, my first thoughts and feelings when awaking from surgery weren't quite as rosy. I had just been cut open, of course, so that is pretty reasonable. Want to hear more about it? Stay tuned for the final installment of my surgery re-cap, coming soon.</div>Korihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04673812133227056577noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9103531921754570117.post-55843750999599355922015-01-19T17:27:00.001-08:002015-01-19T17:33:40.540-08:00The Screwed Uped-ness of the ThinkingIt amazes me that I have been following this sparse diet for weeks, healing from surgery, following the letter of the law as my doctor and nutritionist have recommended, losing weight throughout it all, and yet, I can still worry fervently that this surgery is not working.<br /><div><br /></div><div>I have been around the same weight for a week now, hovering between 43 and 45 pounds lost. It is a stall, I guess, but I don't know how much it counts, given that I lost over 6 pounds the week that I had stomach flu. Even so, even if I hadn't lost a pound when I was sick, and I was still stalling here, it would be completely normal. There is no need to worry. 43 to 45 pounds is a lot of weight to drop, and my body needs time to adjust.</div><div><br /></div><div>My doctor's materials make all kinds of notes not to weigh yourself too often, or to worry about the results. "Just do the work, and let the results follow."</div><div><br /></div><div>Huh.</div><div><br /></div><div>I have one more day, officially, of the soft solid diet, and then on Wednesday, I am cleared to have at it. Try new things. Go crazy and eat something crunchy, for instance. Even with soft foods, I am inching my way to my new normal. Today, I had a <a href="http://evolfoods.com/breakfast/sandwiches/">lean breakfast sandwich</a>: multigrain bread, egg white, chicken and apple sausage, and a bit of cheese. The whole thing was really perfect, split in half and eaten for two meals, because I couldn't get more than a few bites down at a sitting. Two hundred calories, with 16 grams of protein. By all accounts, a great choice.</div><div><br /></div><div>And yet, there I was, thinking, <i>"Oh, no. This is bread. I haven't had bread in over eight weeks. What on earth am I doing?!? Now I'm going to start having wild food cravings. Tomorrow I'm going to have gained five pounds."</i></div><div><br /></div><div>That, my friends, is the screwed uped-ness of the thinking, the obese mind trying to make sense of the obese-but-forcibly-losing-weight body.</div><div><br /></div><div>I simply can't fully believe this is working. I think I'm afraid to hope, and a part of my brain is saying, <i>"Hey, 40+ pounds, look at that! Not ideal, but you can live this way. You feel so much better. If you do everything right, and it just doesn't work, this will be just fine."</i></div><div><br /></div><div>It's meant to be helpful coping thinking, I'm sure, but it leaves me feeling afraid; afraid to move to a regular diet, afraid to reintroduce any complex carbohydrates (lest I interrupt the weight-loss machine that has been my body lately), afraid to be part of the 1-5% for whom this surgery isn't effective.</div><div><br /></div><div>Screwed uped-ness lives.</div><div><br /></div><div>It has been so long since I have really lost weight, significantly, it just seems impossible that the consistent weight-gaining pattern of (almost) my entire adult life could end. No amount of my work or dedication on my part can completely shake this feeling, and the more normal my diet and life becomes post-surgery, the more I think, <i>"Somehow, this is going to end."</i></div><div><br /></div><div>Even worse, I think, <i>"Somehow, this is going to end, and it is going to be my fault."</i></div><div><br /></div><div>I know, rationally, that something about my body helped to trigger or fuel my obesity, beyond my behaviors or choices.<b><i> It was never all my fault,</i></b> as if fault should even be assigned in such a matter. I know that all the shame that I have felt as an adult for being obese—primarily because I assumed all thin people I encountered thought me lazy and gluttonous—was pointless, and only made the problem worse. If I didn't think that I needed a medical intervention in order to treat this, I wouldn't have pursued one, and the results of this intervention are clear: you can't eat much, you aren't hungry much, you lose weight, end of story. All that said, old thinking patterns—even ones that I have worked hard to address—can still strong-arm the new thoughts, the ones that only began to take root in December, as I witnessed my pre-op diet work effectively.&nbsp;</div><div><br /></div><div>Is this working? I can't know. I can only do what I'm supposed to do. I can only move forward. It would be shocking if it wasn't working, practically speaking, but to my brain, it is shocking that it even could.</div><div><br /></div><div>Do you have your own screwed uped-ness of the thinking, those patterns of thought which remain indentured from an older version of yourself, but that don't match your current life? I can't imagine that the obese have the whole market on this. If so, come join the evolution, where we see the old thinking, recognize it for what it is, and kindly tell it that is doesn't work anymore...over, and over, and over.</div>Korihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04673812133227056577noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9103531921754570117.post-13953116741798413162015-01-17T09:34:00.001-08:002015-01-17T09:34:24.336-08:00Surgery Recap Series, Post #1—Pre-Surgery Week: Deciding Where to GoFor those who are regular blog readers, and specifically momblog or dadblog readers, today's entry might feel vaguely familiar. This post begins a series, which will effectively be my surgical equivalent of "the birth story," the often anticipated post after a parentblogger has been writing about an upcoming birth for months, and then sinks into the black hole of exhausting infant care, and is unable to post the actual details of the birth for a few weeks.<br /><br />It took me FOREVER to post a birth story after having EJ, mainly because the birth was so darn horrific, way beyond the norm (as if the norm isn't just a freak show to start), and I just couldn't get pen to paper, so to speak. I didn't even want to think about it, and I certainly didn't want to scare anyone else. I believe what I wrote was pretty cursory, and within the following years, my blog revealed more details of the event as they were germane to new thoughts and feelings.<br /><br />But, hey, here's the good news, readers! For those of you who are interested in what my experience of receiving a vertical sleeve gastrectomy was like, I can tell you this: it was MUCH better than birth! Maybe 10,000 times better? That sounds about right. Of course, I didn't get an adorable baby out of it, but I sure am sleeping better than I did when I came home with a baby.<br /><br />So, for those who have been interested, here is the first in a series in which I flip back in time just over a month, and give my play-by-play account of my surgery experience. For those interested in this same surgery, and who may have questions, feel free to leave a comment with your contact info, and we can chat directly.<br /><br /><h3>Pre-Surgery Week: Deciding Where to Go</h3><div>After several years of research, attending informational sessions, and going back and forth with our insurance company, we got the final word that there would be no way that my surgery could be covered via insurance.</div><div><br /></div><div><i>THIS IS A MAJOR SCAM. Obesity kills people, and bariatric surgery shows the most promising outcomes for helping to combat obesity, in conjunction with health behavior changes. I could go on and on about the silliness of all this, but suffice it to say, this isn't cosmetic surgery, and I hope that insurers stop thinking of it as an expensive elective soon.</i></div><div><br /></div><div>At that point, I knew I would not be able to have the surgery here in Chicago, as the local (amazing) hospitals did not have a fixed, set rate for the surgery, which meant that I could pay as much as $55K once all the costs were covered. I felt pretty despondent, but after reaching out online to communities of people who were having/had recently had vertical sleeve gastrectomy, I discovered that affordable options were available if you were willing to travel.</div><div><br /></div><div>For those in America and Canada who want to self-pay for surgery, the main affordable option is Tijuana, Mexico. For a set price (minus airfare), you can fly to San Diego, get picked up at the airport, brought to the hospital, receive surgery, get put up in a hotel after you are discharged, then brought back to the airport 2-3 days later. I had heard rave reviews online, and began calling different practices to determine who might be best.</div><div><br /></div><div>Here's where things got complicated. There is an entire world of marketing and competition that happens in this industry, and surgeons have coordinators and staff members specifically hired to encourage you to use their practice, and to avoid others. Some folks had nothing negative to say about other doctors, others used vague jabs and innuendo to let you know other doctors were really not as safe, and a few basically called out others as butchers or hacks.</div><div><br /></div><div>I found this entire process very difficult to swallow. I talked to some really great coordinators and some very thoughtful surgeons, and I know (through meeting others online who have had surgery in Mexico), that many of these doctors have excellent outcomes. Still, though, as an intuitive, it was hard for me to decipher through the propaganda to figure out who was best in this market. In addition, different doctors had wildly differing techniques, none of which I could verify as best practice through my own research.</div><div><br /></div><div>It occurred to me around this time that, for general surgery, if you have a great local referral and good insurance coverage, you likely wouldn't ask so many technique questions. There was something about having to seek out providers, and having it completely in my own purview to make the decision, that brought me straight back to my days as a health care researcher. I simply could not get enough information. The problem: the more information I received, the less clear I was about my choice.</div><div><br /></div><div>Throughout this entire discovery time, I posted my insights on Facebook, and got a lot of feedback from friends who work in health care. One of my former colleagues (when I was a health care researcher), who went on to become a registered nurse, reminded me to think volumes. Every surgeon can have complications: sometimes the best surgeons have higher complication rates, actually, because they work on the trickiest cases and/or the sickest people; volumes are the key to becoming an expert technician. It was nice to have my memory jogged about such an important point, especially as I was sifting through varying reports of outcomes for different surgeons via phones calls and online searches.</div><div><br /></div><div>Around this time, I went back to a post I had made on a sleeve community forum, asking for self-pay physician referrals, and remembered that someone had <a href="http://www.drpleatman.com/">recommended a surgeon</a> in Michigan, only four hours away. I had also found a different self-pay doc in Michigan, one who has <a href="https://www.youtube.com/user/DrMatthewWeiner">a terrific series</a> of videos about obesity, the surgical options, and healthy eating/exercise. &nbsp;</div><div><br /></div><div>The first doc, <a href="http://www.drpleatman.com/">Dr. Pleatman</a>, was described as an excellent surgeon, but not the best interpersonally. The second, <a href="http://drmatthewweiner.com/">Dr. Weiner</a>, was so engaging on screen, I wanted to find out more.</div><div><br /></div><div>I made appointments with both, and was happy that, unlike with Mexico, I could meet these surgeons in person, not just online. I hit it off immediately with Dr. Pleatman's coordinator/receptionist, Cari. She was friendly, personable, and not the least bit a salesperson. She's a great ambassador for his practice. She also warned me that the doctor is not very "touchy-feely," or something like that, which was consistent with what I had heard from his previous patient. That's not why we hire surgeons, of course, so I wasn't deterred. When I called the second doctor, they were hesitant to book me, as I wasn't local, and had to get specialized approval.</div><div><br /></div><div>Dr. Pleatman called me the evening I first spoke to his office, and I found him extremely personable. I was surprised I had heard otherwise. He was patient, went through my medical history on the phone, and made me feel hopeful.</div><div><br /></div><div>A few weeks later, I travelled to Michigan, stayed with my aunt and uncle, who made me delicious meals and fancy cappuccinos, and interviewed both doctors on a whirlwind day.</div><div><br /></div><div>In the end, I chose <a href="http://www.drpleatman.com/">Dr. Pleatman</a>, for a variety of reasons, and I am so glad I did. While surgery in Michigan is twice the cost as surgery in Mexico, it was one-fifth the cost of surgery here, so still a bargain. While I highly recommend Dr. Weiner's videos—truly, if you want to understand obesity, how this surgery works, what kind of diet is best, etc., he is your guy, and I am so grateful for what I learned from him via these videos—the main reasons for choosing Dr. Pleatman were, as follows:</div><div><br /></div><div><ol><li><b>Volumes:</b> Dr. Pleatman had performed at least 3 times as many surgeries, and that is just within recent years; beyond comparison between the two surgeons, specifically, his volumes are excellent (with a low complication rate, too.)</li><li><b>Facility:</b> <a href="http://www.stjoesoakland.org/welcome-to-st-joseph-mercy-oakland">The hospital</a> at which Dr. Pleatman performs surgery was fantastic, and when you come from out of town, and don't know hospital reputations from local chatter, it is nice to find such a modern, well-equipped, and quite frankly, aesthetically lovely place to have surgery waiting for you. My aunt in Detroit, who is a nurse, liked that it was a part of the Catholic health system there, which she recommended. I like a nurse's approval!</li><li><b>Out-of-Town Accommodations: </b>From material on their (robust) website to the services provided at in-person visits, Dr. Pleatman's practice has everything worked out to ease this process for out-of-town patients. I got a special rate at a hotel just minutes from the office and the hospital that had a kitchenette (to make eating my specialized food easier), and received an hour-long consultation with both the nutritionist and the patient-care coordinator, with accompanying reference materials, diet plans, exercise plans, and dates to remember to take home.</li><li><b>Trust: </b>I trusted him, from the start. I realize this is intangible, but it may be the most important factor of all.</li></ol></div><div><i>(There are a few additional reasons why I made the decision I did, and if you are someone considering this surgery with either physician, I would be happy to share my insights, privately. For public consumption, this is all I want to share.)</i></div><div><i><br /></i></div><div>Once home, I began the process of ordering protein powders and vitamins, and starting my two-week pre-op, liver shrinking diet. I received great online support from Dr. Pleatman's nutritionist during this time, and the results were terrific.&nbsp;</div><div><br /></div><div>Interested in more? Stay tuned for more on my beautifully-small liver and my actual surgery!</div><div><br /></div>Korihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04673812133227056577noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9103531921754570117.post-70558077950841001162015-01-16T13:13:00.002-08:002015-01-16T13:13:22.766-08:00Sweet Sixteen, One MonthDecember 16th/January 16th, in photo.<br /><br />I know these photos aren't great—the first is from surgery morning, so I'm still in my jammies at the hotel, and in today's follow-up pic, the room is really dark, as most of the lightbulbs have gone dead. I'd fix them, but I can't reach them, even with a step stool. Ah, being short. Please send official complaints for the weird computer brightness in this shot to my tall, capable husband, who isn't the least bit troubled by an inability to see while getting ready in the morning. He doesn't often check personal email or Facebook, so it won't bother him at all, I promise.<br /><br />Don't send complaints about my jammies, though. I had enough on my mind that day, I'm owning that look 100%<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-nIWp2PACDxk/VLl-B1HHrpI/AAAAAAAABC8/LsFkr4nELH8/s1600/One%2Bmonth.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-nIWp2PACDxk/VLl-B1HHrpI/AAAAAAAABC8/LsFkr4nELH8/s1600/One%2Bmonth.jpg" height="375" width="400" /></a></div><br />Can you see a difference?Korihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04673812133227056577noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9103531921754570117.post-80238738198720595522015-01-15T15:48:00.000-08:002015-01-15T15:48:14.227-08:00EnergyToday is the first day since my surgery that I really felt some get-up-and-go energy. I almost didn't recognize myself.<br /><br />I am not a morning person, and as our child has transitioned from needy little one to capable school-aged one, my husband usually humors me by letting me sleep a little past the alarm while he helps the kiddo with breakfast (if she needs it.) It's a lucky arrangement for me, because there is almost nothing I like better than getting to sleep in.<br /><br /><i>(I once received a Garfield-themed, "I don't do mornings." nightgown as a teen, <a href="http://www.sears.com/teeshirtpalace-garfield-i-don-t-do-mornings-ladies-junior/p-0000000000000003649900000000000012922934P?prdNo=3&amp;blockNo=3&amp;blockType=G3">much like this one</a>, except more 1980s, on a preppy fuchsia/mulberry background. My morning preferences have been long established.)</i><br /><br />The trouble I have is that if I start to string too many of these mornings together, and he happens to have too many busy mornings in a row, I discover that I am, in fact, expected at wake-up by the rest of the family, lest I have forgotten.<br /><br />During post-op recovery, though, my mornings have been late, and no one has had any worries about it. I am tired a lot, not the kind of tired one feels from a stressful or busy day, or a late night, but fatigue in the body that says, "Hey, don't forget, you got cut open a few weeks ago." I'll go for a few hours, feel really good, then WHAM, there it is. Deep, down tired. I really should be napping every afternoon, if I a) had the time, and b) were smart about this whole recovery.<br /><br /><i>(I have mentioned here that I am totally off caffeine, right? Yeah. That's some tough stuff to work without.)</i><br /><br />Having the stomach bug last week didn't help, of course. Dehydration, already setting in because of the cold, dry Chicago air, was quadrupled, and as I can't throw back anything more than a few sips of water at a time now, it is hard to turn around.<br /><br />This past month, when the alarm has sounded, I have usually been so zoned out, I just fall back asleep for awhile, if I have even fully woken up. Sometimes I haven't even heard it, then wake up startled much later, to find that everyone is fine, lunch is packed, and the kiddo is about to head out to school with the hubby. Even for me, a late sleeper, this has been out of the ordinary. It is weird to try to jump into work without a warm-up.<br /><br />This week, though, was a bit of a breakthrough. I realized a few days ago that, once again, like before my surgery, I was instinctively waking up a few moments before the alarm. Pre-surgery, I would have gone back to bed, and just hit snooze a few times. What I noticed beginning this week, though, was that I have been feeling more awake when I wake up before the alarm than I ever did pre-surgery. I think I need to sleep longer, and I go back to bed and really try, but then...hang on...I discover that, "Nope, I'm well rested and ready to wake up." My body feels a little more refreshed, a little more recharged, and it is...odd. It is also wonderful! Exciting! Hopeful! Still, even though it is great, really, it feels very, very odd. Who am I?<br /><br />My little <a href="http://www.britannica.com/EBchecked/topic/187001/endomorph">endomorph</a> self doesn't quite know what to do with a revved up metabolism.<br /><br />Today, I awoke to <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=moSFlvxnbgk">"Let It Go"</a> being played on our tablet, which EJ usually takes to her room to use as her alarm. Last night, she left it in the living room, so just about the only person who wasn't going to wake up to it was her, sleeping on the opposite end of our home. Interestingly, though, Mike didn't hear it either.<br /><br /><i>(How? I don't know. I really, really, don't know. It was so much broadway-style singing with inspirational lyrics. Who sleeps through that?)</i><br /><br />I got out of bed and brought the tablet in full Idina Menzel to EJ's room, stopped in the bathroom, then planned to go back to bed. I put on my CPAP mask and snuggled in. Then our alarm went off, and unlike any other morning since I had my operation, I got up and started the day. I had had enough sleep. I wasn't groggy. I made a great start. I then proceeded to have an energy-filled day, including some writing, a visit to the acupuncturist, school pick-up, then errands with the kiddo. I'm planning to cook a whole dinner tonight: salmon, cauliflower mash, and some asparagus. I can feel the tired starting to creep in a bit, but it's 5:30 p.m., much later than any other day's onset of fatigue.<br /><br />I don't know what my current 40+ pound weight loss means for my blood pressure, my cholesterol, or my blood sugar right now, as I haven't had those tests done. What I can say is that my back hurts less, I'm sleeping better, and I have more energy than I have felt in longer than I can actually remember.Korihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04673812133227056577noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9103531921754570117.post-1246709931716067252015-01-14T06:00:00.000-08:002015-01-14T06:00:06.922-08:00Speck-Tacular<i style="background-color: white; color: #3c1f00; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.2000007629395px;">This post is sponsored by&nbsp;<a href="http://www.speckproducts.com/" style="color: #b5653b; text-decoration: none;">Speck&nbsp;Products</a>, who provided me with some lovely Speck cases to try out and write about here on the blog. All opinions presented here are my own, or those of my family members who have sampled the Speck cases along with me.</i><br /><i style="background-color: white; color: #3c1f00; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.2000007629395px;"><br /></i><span style="color: #3c1f00; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.2000007629395px;">Did you get a new iPhone for Hannukah or Christmas? <a href="http://www.speckproducts.com/">Speck</a>&nbsp;has got you covered!</span></span><br /><span style="color: #3c1f00; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.2000007629395px;"><br /></span></span><span style="color: #3c1f00; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.2000007629395px;">If you <i>didn't&nbsp;</i>receive one of those lovely new gadgets, don't worry! Speck has products available for all kinds of phones, tablets, and laptops. Speck kindly offered one phone case, one tablet case, and one laptop case for us to sample, and I am happy to report that we like them all. Here's our reviews:</span></span><br /><span style="color: #3c1f00; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.2000007629395px;"><br /></span></span><span style="color: #3c1f00; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.2000007629395px;">1) iPhone Case</span></span><br /><span style="color: #3c1f00; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.2000007629395px;"><br /></span></span><span style="color: #3c1f00; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.2000007629395px;">My father-in-law graciously offered to review a new iPhone 5 case, and it couldn't have come too soon. Dad's OtterBox case had begun to fall apart, the rubber peeling away and getting sticky. He chose the <a href="http://www.speckproducts.com/candyshell-faceplate-for-iphone-5s-5.html">CandyShell + FACEPLATE iPhone 5 case in Black/Slate Grey.</a>&nbsp;</span></span><br /><span style="color: #3c1f00; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.2000007629395px;"><br /></span></span><span style="color: #3c1f00; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.2000007629395px;">After having to fool around with it a little to get the faceplate on without air or dust behind it (my husband <a href="http://www.koritelling.com/2014/10/speck-yourself-out.html">had this same issue</a>), he has since reported that he loves it. He likes the look and the feel (slimmer than the OtterBox, shinier, but still with grips to hold), and says the buttons work well and plug-ins are easy to access (something that was less optimal with his old case.) &nbsp;</span></span><br /><span style="color: #3c1f00; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.2000007629395px;"><br /></span></span><span style="color: #3c1f00; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.2000007629395px;">If you have an older phone going the distance, a Speck case is a nice way to keep your phone safe and stylish.</span></span><br /><span style="color: #3c1f00; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.2000007629395px;"><br /></span></span><span style="color: #3c1f00; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.2000007629395px;">2) iPad Case</span></span><br /><span style="color: #3c1f00; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.2000007629395px;"><br /></span></span><span style="color: #3c1f00; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.2000007629395px;">Speaking of going the distance, let's talk for a moment about the iPad 2. You know, that iPad so many of us purchased a few years back, and is still going strong?&nbsp;</span></span><br /><span style="color: #3c1f00; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.2000007629395px;"><br /></span></span><span style="color: #3c1f00; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.2000007629395px;">Sure, I'd love a fancy new iPad Air. I'd also like a new car and a beachy vacation home. None of these items are in our budget, and I can say that our iPad 2 fits squarely into the category: "If it ain't broke, don't replace it."</span></span><br /><span style="color: #3c1f00; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.2000007629395px;"><br /></span></span><span style="color: #3c1f00; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.2000007629395px;">Unfortunately, the snappy magnetic cover that I purchased from Apple along with the iPad 2 did not hold up. I was able to purchase another one, but it is gray, blah, and provides little protection for the device.</span></span><br /><span style="color: #3c1f00; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.2000007629395px;"><br /></span></span><span style="color: #3c1f00; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.2000007629395px;">I like color.&nbsp;</span></span><br /><span style="color: #3c1f00; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.2000007629395px;"><br /></span></span><span style="color: #3c1f00; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.2000007629395px;">Speck to the rescue! I am very excited to report that the case we tested, the <a href="http://www.speckproducts.com/tablet-ipad-cases/the-new-ipad/fitfolio-for-ipad.html">Slim-Fit Protective iPad Case and Adjustable Viewing Stand</a>, <b>is currently on sale for $19.99 (usually $39.99.)</b> It does add a little weight to the device, but also adds protection and versatility, with two ways to fold it in order to use your iPad in different configurations for viewing and typing.</span></span><br /><span style="color: #3c1f00; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.2000007629395px;"><br /></span></span><span style="color: #3c1f00; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.2000007629395px;">I like this case because the color and utility of it make me feel like we have a brand new device. I have found that it is hard to hold it's position in typing mode, and wish it had a feature that allowed it to be propped up in portrait, not just landscape. All told, it is really nice to have our old device looking and feeling new and snazzy. Given that it can be hard to find cases for older devices, it is nice to have a variety of colors and patterns available, too.</span></span><br /><span style="color: #3c1f00; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.2000007629395px;"><br /></span></span><span style="color: #3c1f00; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.2000007629395px;">3) MacBook Case</span></span><br /><span style="color: #3c1f00; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.2000007629395px;"><br /></span></span><span style="color: #3c1f00; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.2000007629395px;">This was the big-hit winner of the holiday season this year. My husband's laptop is now adorned with a <a href="http://www.speckproducts.com/macbook-cases/macbook-pro/macbook-pro-seethru.html">MacBook Pro SeeThru Case</a>&nbsp;in deep blue. He loves it. LOVES it. Is there something bigger than love to say here?</span></span><br /><span style="color: #3c1f00; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.2000007629395px;"><br /></span></span><span style="color: #3c1f00; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.2000007629395px;">The case, itself, does not add a lot of weight to the computer, it protects it well, and it is really beautiful. The light from the apple on the back of his computer glows through the case, and is very striking. I think he is officially converted from "my computer doesn't really need a case" to "I am never taking this case off."</span></span><br /><span style="color: #3c1f00; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.2000007629395px;"><br /></span></span><span style="color: #3c1f00; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.2000007629395px;">I'm a <a href="http://www.speckproducts.com/">Speck</a> fan, as you can see. Check 'em out, friends.</span></span><br /><span style="color: #3c1f00; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.2000007629395px;"><br /></span></span><span style="color: #3c1f00; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.2000007629395px;"><br /></span></span>Korihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04673812133227056577noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9103531921754570117.post-7528265286864513282015-01-13T07:23:00.000-08:002015-01-13T07:23:31.605-08:00Four WeeksFour weeks ago today, on December 16th, I had a vertical sleeve gastrectomy. It was performed in Michigan by a surgeon and at a hospital that accepts self-pay patients at a set rate that was more affordable than local Chicago facilities. It required a whirlwind of preparation and help from family, but now looking at it in the rear-view mirror, I wouldn't have done it any other way.<br /><br />Those of you who follow me on Facebook and other social media already know all about this, as I've been posting #postop notes, and gratefully taking in all of your kind well wishes. Thank you, a million times, THANK YOU. It has taken me awhile (and some starts and stops at the keyboard, unusual for me) to begin to write about this subject here. This will be the first of many posts on the subject, provided in the tiny bite-sized chunks that mirror my actual eating pattern these days.<br /><br />What a month.<br /><br />When I speak to others who have had bariatric surgery, or read articles concerning the subject, I often hear the frustrated, "If someone tells me this is the easy way out, I'm going to...[insert empty threat.]"<br /><br />Does anyone really think this is easy? Truly? I haven't heard anyone say that to me, and I certainly don't think much about what has happened in the past month has been easy. For people like me, who have felt trapped with a seemingly intractable form of obesity, this surgery is certainly more effective, but easy, not so much.<br /><br />I have had well-meaning folks try to warn me about how hard the work will have to be for the rest of my life. How I must be mentally prepared, how I'll need to eat differently, how I can't just skip exercise, how I really have to commit. (I feel like getting cut open and having the majority of a major organ removed is a pretty good indication of commitment, but I digress.)<br /><br />Here's a truth that I'm sure a lot of fit/skinny people might be uncomfortable to hear: many fat people have lots of experience with strict diets and exercise regimes, maybe as strict or stricter than their less heavy friends. The difference? For many of them (myself included), their bodies have not responded as well.<br /><br />It feels better to believe that your body is entirely your making, I get it. I wish that were true. It just isn't. I'm no different than I was before surgery when it comes to my need to really, really watch what I eat and really, really work at my fitness. I've done it before, many times, sometimes more successfully (when measured in pounds) than other times. I have also just said, "Screw it," and stopped caring about all that for months at a time, suffering the consequences. Isn't that true of some "normal sized" people too, though, typically right around the holidays?<br /><br />So don't worry, friends, I understand my predicament. I've lived my weight predicament for my entire adult life. I have no idea where my body size/weight will end up after the initial kick-in-the-pants from this surgery, but I know that paying attention to my lifestyle will be the long-term key to success.<br /><br />For now, I'm on my last day of eating puréed and liquid foods, moving tomorrow to soft foods, then in a week, I'm cleared to eat just about everything, save for really crunchy raw vegetables, etc. I have been following my guidelines to the letter of the law, rule-follower that I am, save for a lack of walking around on days with extreme cold, or last week, when I got stomach flu. (I don't recommend getting a stomach bug while recovering from stomach surgery, btw. It is a horror show.)<br /><br />In some ways, this experience has been a lot like having a child for the first time. You can prepare, you can anticipate, you can do all the work necessary, but you really don't know how it is going to shake out or how you are going to feel until you are already fully committed, past the point of no return. I am pleased to say that most of my worries about potential recovery complications have not come to pass, and I am getting used to my new life through experience.<br /><br />One difficulty did really surprise me, though, and I don't remember reading about it or discussing it with others who have had the surgery before I went under the knife. It has been extremely isolating not being able to eat. I'm not hungry, thanks to the mechanism of the surgery, itself, and getting enough protein and calories in everyday is a challenge. The hard part, for me, has been not being able to sit at table and participate with the family and friends at mealtimes or celebrations. I managed to make it through the Christmas and New Year's holidays on a liquid diet, which I am putting down in my list of "life's greatest accomplishments."<br /><br />I am grateful that I am so close to the finish line of this stage, at which point a new set of challenges will present themselves. Tomorrow night, as I move into soft foods, I am heading out to a restaurant for the first time since surgery, for a girls' night out. I checked out the menu online, then called to confirm that some of the softest foods mentioned are still current menu items. I am both thrilled and terrified to make this transition, but that has been how each stage of the pre- and post-op experience has been, so I'm not surprised. I've become increasingly comfortable with this intensity of opposing emotions right before a shift occurs. I laugh, I cry, I ride it out, it all feels okay.<br /><br />For those who care about these things, I have lost 43.9 pounds as of this morning. At my pre-op visit on Monday, November 24th, I was 3 pounds down from my highest weight, measured a few weeks before. I then went home, enjoyed Thanksgiving without going crazy, and started a pre-op, protein-rich, low-to-no carb, no sugar diet to shrink my liver before surgery. I lost 18 additional pounds before my surgery, two weeks later, bring my total pre-op loss to 21 pounds. With 22.9 additional pounds lost this month during my recovery, I've already improved a lot of my potential risk factors, while still understanding I have a long way to go.<br /><br />On the left, I am in my jammies at the hotel in Michigan, right before leaving for surgery on December 16th; on the right, I'm standing in our kitchen this past Sunday, anticipating the Packers playoff game against the Cowboys (with one of my biggest cheerleaders.) Small difference? I think so. No big drop in size yet, but I can button my wool coat over my heaviest fleece, and not be so stuffed in I can still use my arms to drive. Is that a good Midwestern measure? I'm going with it, with a giant smile on my face.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-A0oVp8A5Zj0/VLUwhctEYPI/AAAAAAAABCk/pdeGlDtafhM/s1600/photo%2B(18).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-A0oVp8A5Zj0/VLUwhctEYPI/AAAAAAAABCk/pdeGlDtafhM/s1600/photo%2B(18).JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-vFYwVRFAPsk/VLUwi8vJZuI/AAAAAAAABCs/YryxvBoJ_t0/s1600/photo%2B(19).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-vFYwVRFAPsk/VLUwi8vJZuI/AAAAAAAABCs/YryxvBoJ_t0/s1600/photo%2B(19).JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>Korihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04673812133227056577noreply@blogger.com3